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No. CCCLXXVm 



PS 1499 ^^,g SYANDARD DRAMA, 

. D85 U6 

1880Z C^t %dxn5 ^biixon. 

Copy 1 



I ^ 



UsDER THE Gaslight. 

A TOTALLY ORIGINAL AND PICTURESQUE 

DBAMA 

OF 

LIFE AND LOVE IN THESE TIMES, 

IN FIVE ACTS, 

BY AUGUSTUS DALY, 

Authorof '^Leab, the Forsaken ; " "Griffith Gaunt," &c., &c. 



i^TJXHOR'S EDITION^, 



New Y'ortc : 
SAMUEL FRENCH & SON, 

PUBUSllERS, 

38 E. 14tk Street, Union Square. 



London : 
SAMVEL FRENCH, 

PUBLISHER, 

89, STRAND. 



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THE ABOTE ARTICLES TO BE HAD SEPARATELY. FOR PRICES. Sf^ 



No Playt Exchanged or Sent on Approval. 



[NTERNATIONAL 
DESCBIPTIVE CATALOGUE 

OF 

PLAYS, 

AND 

DRAMATIC WORKS, 

With a Descriptive List of Amateur Plays and Articles. 



CONTENTS. 



Pae:e. 

Amateur Dramas, Comedies, etc 32 

Amateur Operas 42 

Articles Needed by Amateurs 45 

Beards, Whiskers, Mustaches, etc. 47 

Bits of Burlesque 38 

Bound sets of Plays 14 

Bui wer Lytton's Plays 24 

Burlesque Dramas 42 

Burnt Cork 45 

Oliarade Plays 38 

Colored Fire and Tableaux Lights... 4f» 

Comic Dramas for Male Char. only. 42 

Costume Books • 25 

Cumberland's Edition 19 

Darkey Dramas 39 

Dram as for Boys 42 

Drawing Room Plays 25 

Elocution Reciters and Speakers. .. . 44 

Ethiopian Dramas 39 

Eveninsj's Entertainment 40 

Fairy PI ay s 40 

French's Edition 2 

French's English Operas 42 

French's Italian Operas 37 

French's Standard Minor Drama.... 14 

French's Parlor Comedies 41 

Frobisher's Popular Recitals 45 

Guide Books for Amateurs 41 

Grand Army Dramas 36 

Grease Paints 48 

Home Plays for Ladies 41 



Pasje 

How to "Make-up" 48 

How We Managed our Private Thea- 

tricals 36 

Irish Plays 36 

Juvenile Plays 40 

Lacy's Costumes 26 

Magnesium Tableaux Lights 45 

Mitke-up Box <iS> 

isriscellaneous Books 25 

Miscellaneous Editions of Plays 24 

Miscellaneous Plajs 13 

Mrs. Jarley 's Wax Works 24 

New Plays 14 

Nigger Jokes and Stump Speeches. . . 40 

Parlor Magic 41 

Parlor Pantomimes 41 

Pieces of P easantry 38 

Plays for Male Characters only 37 

Round Games 41 

Scenes for Amateurs 25 

Scriptural and Historical Dramas... 42 

Sensation Dramas 38 

Seno-Comic Dramaa . 42 

Shadow Pantomimes 43 

Shakespeare's Piays 37 

Sheet Musi'- 43 

Tableaux Vivants 37 

Temperance Plavs 2'^ 

Theatrical Face Preparations 46 

Vocal Music of Shakespeare's Plays . 4^1 

Wigs 47 



ALL MAILABLE ARTICLES IN THIS CATALOGUE SENT POST FREE. 



In ordering and remitting hg Mail always send Post Office 
Orders if ^wssiNe. 

POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN IN PAYMENT. 



New York : 

SAMUEL FRENCH & SON, 

PUBLISHERS, 

38 E. 14th St., Union Square. 



London : 

SAMUEL FRENCH, 

PUBLISHER. 

89, STRAND. 



Payme7it MUST accompany each Order, 
A Catalogue with above Contents Sent Free. 



WEMYSS' ACTING DRAMA, 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT: 

A TOTALLY ORIGINaVJ. AUB PICTITRESQCJE 

gntma 

OF 

LIFE AND LOVE IX THESE TIMES, 
z^v n rjEJ A c Ts, 

By AUGUSTIN DALY, 

^TTTnOB OP " LEAH THE FORSAKEN," "GRIFFITH GAUNT," " TAMINa k 
BUTTERFLT," ETC, ETC. 



AS ORIGINALLY PLAYED AT THE NEW YORK THEATER IN THE 
MONTHS OF AUGUST, SEPT. AND OCT., 1867. 



AUTHOR'S EDITION 



New Your : 

SAMUEL FRENCH & SON, 

PPBLISHERS, 

38 E. 14tli St.. TTaion Square. 



London : 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 

PUBLISHER. 
8 9, STRAND. 



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G«FT 
EST. OF J. H. CORNING 

J( IMP Pn 1 QAO 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 



ACT I. 

SCENE 1st. — Parlor at the CourtJands ; deep idndow at Jxr/;Ji 
shoiciiig snowi/ exterior ; street lamp lifj/ited ; tiuie, 
night ; the XJl<^c^ elegantly fur rdshed ; chandelier. 

Ray Traffokd /s discovered lounging on tete-a- 
tete (c.) Pearl is at (l.) door talcing leave of 
Demilt, Windel, Mrs. Van Dam, and Sus 
Earlie, who are all dressed and muffled to go out. 

Mrs. V. Good night ! of course we'll see you on Tuesday 

Pearl. To be sure you will. 

Demilt. Never spent a jollier hour. Good night, Ray. 

Ra?/. {On so/a.) Good night. 

Mrs V. You won't forget the Sociable on Tuesday, Ray ? 

Ray. O, I won't forget. 

All. {At door.) Good night — good night ! \^Exit. L. 

Pearl. Good night. {Com'/ ng forward.) O, dear I now they're 
gone, and the holiday's gone with them. {Goes to icindow.) There 
they go. {Laughter icichoKt.) Ray, do come and look at the Van 
Dam's new sleigh. How they have come out. 

Ray. Yes, it's the gayest thing in the Park ! 

Pearl. {Still at icindow c.) I wonder where they got the money I 
I thought you said Van D.\m had failed ! 

Ray. Well, yes. He failed to pay, but he continues to spend. 

Pearl. {As if to those outside). Good night ! {Response froir* 
icithout as sleigh bells jingle — " Good night.") I wish I was in there 
with you. It's delightful for a sleigh ride, if it wasn't New Year's. 

! there's Demilt over ! {Laughter outside — cracking of whips — 
Ray saunters up to loindow. Sleigh hells jingle, sleigh music heard 
to die away. Ray and Pearl wave their handkerchiefs. Ray cornea 
doiDJi and sits, c.) 

Pearl. {Closing lace curtains.) Isn't it a frightful thing to be 
shut up here on such a beautiful night, and Nev/ Year's o! all 
others. Pshaw ? we've had nothing but mopes ail day. 0, dear ! 

1 hate mourning, though it does become me, and I hate everything 
bat fun, larks and dancing. {Co7nes doion). 

Ray. Where in the world is Laura? . 

Pearl. O ! do forget her for a second, can't you? She'll be here 
presently. You're not in the house a minute but it's, " Where'a 
Laura ? " " Why don't Laura come? " 

Ray {Ta/-i?iy her hand) Well, if anybody in the wcrld could 



4 UNDER 1HE GASLIGHT. 

make me forpret her, it would be you. But if you bad a lover, 
wouldn't you like biin to be as constant as tbat ? 

Pearl. ' That's quite another thing. 

Bay. But this doesn't answer my question — Where is she? 

Pearl. I sent for her as soon as I saw you coming. She has 
hardly been down here a moment all this evening. O, dear ! Now 
don't you think I'm a victim, to be cooped up in this way instead of 
receiving calls as we used to ? 

Pay. You forget that your mother died only last summer, 
(Bising.) 

Pearl. No, I don't forget. Pshaw ! You're j ust like Laura. 
She's only my cousin, and yet she keeps always saying — " Poor 
aunt Mary ! let us not forget how she Avould have sorrowed for us." 

Pay. {Going towards hack). W ell, don't you know she would, too ? 

Pearl. I don't know anything about it. I was always at board- 
ing school, and she only saw me once a year. Laura was always 
at home, and it's very different. But don't let's talk about it. To 
die — ugh ! I don't want to die till I don't want to live— and that'll 
not be for a million of years. Come, tell me— where have you been 
to-day ? how many calls did you make ? {Sitting in tete-a-tete). 

Pay. About sixty. 

Pearl. That all ? You're lazy. Demilt and Windel made a 
hundred and thirty, and they say tliat s nothing. Won't you have 
a cup of coffee ? 

Pay. No. 

Pearl. Ain't yon hungry ? 

Pay. No — you torment. 

Pearl. O, dear ! I suppose it's because you're going to be mar- 
ried shortly to Laura. If there's one time that a man's stupid to 
his friends, it's when he's going to be married shortly. Tell me 
whom you saw. (Ray fvas sauntered off (l.), and is looking over 
cards on table.) Where are you? Oh, you needn't be so impatient 
to see her. Do bo agreeable ; sit here and tell me something funny, 
or I shall drop down and fall asleep. 

Pay. {Over her shoulder). You witch ! Why didn't I fall in love 
with you ? 

Pearl. {Laughing) I don't know ; why didn't you ? 

Pay. You never keep me waiting. {Listening offu.) Ah, that s 
hor step ! No. 

Pearl. Do sit down. 

Pay. {Sittmg). This calling's a great bore ; but as you and 
Laura insisted I should go through it, I did. First I — {Jumping 
up.) I knew it was she. {Goes to doo^, R. ii. : meets Laura, who 
enters.) How ycHi did k'^ep me waiting. {Kisses both her hands.) 

Ijaura. And you, sir, we have been looking for you since eight 
o clock. 

Pay. 0, I was fulfilling y ur orders. I've been engaged in the 
business of calling, from ten o'clock in the morning, till now — 
{looks at watch — ) ten at night. 

Laura. Well, you can make this your last one, for you have 
leave to spend a nice long hour chatting here before you go. Won't 
you have some supper. {G'^esto bell), l. 2 e. on table. 

Pay. 1 don't care if I do I'm rather famished. 

Pearl. Well, I declare! Did Laura bring your appetite with 
her ? Laura rings. 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. & 

Rai/. I don't know how it is, but she brings me a relish for every- 
thing in life, I believe. La.ura, I think if I were to lose you I'd 
mope to death and starve to death. 

Laura. Well, that's as much as to say I'm a sort of Life Pill. 
(Martin enters door l. h.) Supper. (Mautix exits.) 

Ray. You may joke about it, — but it's so. You take the lounge 
(Laura and Pearl dt on tete-a-tete) 

Pearl. You ion't want me to go away, do you ? {Putting het 
head on Laura's shoulder.) 

Laura. Certainly not. What an idea ! 

Pearl. I'm sure youll have time enough to be alone when yo^ 
we married. And I do so want to talk and be talked to. 

Laura. Well, Ray shall talk to you. 

'"earl. He was just going to tell me about his calls to-day. 

iMura. That's exactly what we want to hear about. Did yo.. 
call on every one we told you to? 

Bay. Every one. There was Miss 

Pearl. Did you go to Henrietta Liston's first ? 

Ray. Yes, and wasn't she dressed ! Speaking of dress, aie yo* 
going to have your new pink for the Sociable, Tuesday ? 

Laura. Yes, Pearl, aud I will do credit to tt)e occasion, as it \a 
our first for a year. 

Ray. {Taking Laura's ha'>id.) And our last. 

Pearl. Our last ! 

Ray. Laura's and mine. For when we are married, jo-a knr^w, 
we shall be tabooed — where maids and bachelors only are pe .mit^ ed. 

Pearl. blees me ! {rising.) How do you do Mrs. Tra' foRx^. 

Laura, {rising) {sadly.) I vdsh you hadn't said tha< Pe; au. 
You know the old proverb : " Call a maid by a married na' le." 

Ray. Nonsense ! {Putting his arm about Laura's wa st.) It'a 
only a few days to wait, and we'll live long enough, y u b oav. 
For nothing but dej .th shall separate us. 

[Martin appears at do&, l. 

Pearl. 0, here's supper. ^ 

Martin. Beg pardon, Miss. 

Laura. What's the matter? 

Martin. There's a person below. Miss, who says he'f b- a ^ sent 
with a bouquet for you. Miss, and must deliver it iu per oo 

Laura. For me? Whose servant is it ? 

Martin. I don't know. Miss, he looks like one of tl <)s /soldier 
Messengers — red cap and all that. 

Laura. Show him up here. 

\Exit Marti? , d 2 e. l. 

Pearl. How romantic. So late at night. It's a rivi 1 ii disguise, 
Ray. 

(Martin re-enters shoicing in Snorkey, uyith an o/rc/ disdain^ 
Snor. has a large bouquet in his hand, and his hat is v ic-er the stump 
of his right urm, which is cut off. 

Laura. You wished to see me ? 

Snorkey. (l. h.) Are you Miss Laura CouRTLi .(^JD ? 
Laura. Yes. 

Snorkey. Then I was told to give you this. 
Laura. {Taking it from Ray, wlw has crossed L i. and received U 
from Snorkey.) By 'whom ? 



3 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Snorlcey. No-vv, that's what I don't know myself ! You see I waa 
down by the steps of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, takincr a light snjv 
per off a small toothpick, when a big chap dressed in black came by, 
and says he : " Hallo, come with me if you want to earn a quarter."' 
That (confidentially to all) being my very frame of mind, I went up 
oue street and down another, till we came here. " Just you take 
tins up there," says he, " and ask for Miss Lauka Couktlakd, and 
give it to her and no one else." 

Laura. It is some folly of our late visitors 

Snorkey. I'm one of the Soldier Messengers, Miss. We take to 
it very well, considering we had so little ranning in Uncle Sam's 
Bervice. 

Ray. (.^s Snoh. is going l.) Stop a moment, my man. "Were 
you not one of the Twenty-second's recruits ? 

Bnorkey. Yes, Captain ; I remember you joined us in New York, 
Rnd left us at Washington. Real fighting wasn't funny, you 
thought, and I began to think so too at Fredericksburg. 
Hay. Poor devil. 

Siiorkey. There was a South Carolina gentleman took such a 
fancy to me at Fredericksburg I Wouldn't have no denial,— cut ofl 
my arm to remember me by ; he was very fond of me. I wasn't any 
use to Uncle Sam then, so I came home, put a red band round my 
blue cap, and with my empty sleeve, as a charactei from my last 
place, set up for light porter and general messenger. All orders 
executed with neatness and dispatch. 
Pearl. And Uncle Sam has forgotten you. 

Snm^key. Ah ! Miss, don't blame Uncle Sam for that, he's got 
such a big family to look after, I can't find fault if he don't happen 
to remember all us poor stumps of fellows. 
Rail. (l. h.) So it seems. 

Laura, (c.) (PEAJih takes boiiquet.) Poor fellow! {To servant) 
Maktin, be sure and give him a glass of wine before he goes. 

Snorkey. (l. c.) I'm much obliged. Miss — but I don't think it 
would be good for me on an empty stomach — after fasting all day. 
i Laura. Well, Martin shall find you some supper, too. 

Snorkey. Is this Martin ? What a nice young man. Mayn't 
he have a drop of something, too ? He must have caught cold let- 
ting me in, he has got such a dreadful stiffness in the back of his 
neck. [ISIartin exit. 

Ran. {Giving penciled address.) Call on me at this place to- 
morrow, and you shan't regret it. 

Snorkey All right, Cap'n 1 I havn't forgot the Army Kegula- 
tians about punctuality and promotion. Ladies, if ever eitlu^r of 
you should want a Light Porter, think of Joe Snorkey — wages no 
objection. [E?dt l. h. door. 

2^ea.rl, (c.) {Who has been examining the bouquet.) O! Laura, 
only look — here's a billet-doux ! 

Ra>i. Nonsense ! Crazy head ! Who would dare {takes bouquet) 
— a letter 1 {Takes a paper from bouquet.) 
Laura. A letter ? 
Pearl. I am crazy — am I ? 

Ray. {Reads superscription) "For Miss Laura Courtland. 
Confidential." 

LjJiura {Laughs) Ha! Ha! from some goose who has made 
one call too many to-day. Read it, Ray — {Offering letter.) 



UNDKK THE GASLIGHT. 7 

Bay. " Dear Laura {Refusing the letter, and going to 

Pearl.) 

Laura. {Looks at it a moment, when the lohole expression of face 
changes. Then reads sloicly and deiiberately. Ray down r. c. with 
Pearl.) " I respectfully beg you to grant me the favor of an inter- 
view to-night. I have waited until your cornpany retired. I am 
wading across the street, now.'" 

Fearl. {Runs to icindotc.) A tall man in black is just walking 
away. 

Laura. "If you will have the door opened as soon as you get this, 
I ID ill step over ; if you don'' t^ Twill ring ; under all circumstan- 
ces T will get in. There is no need to sign my name ; you loill re- 
memher me as the strange man ivhom you once saw talking with 
your mother in the parlor, and who frightened you so much.'''' What 
can be the meaning of this ? — Pearl — no — {goes to bell on table 
L. H., and rings ) 

Ray. Laura, you — 

Laura. Ask me nothing. I will tell you by-and-by. 

[Enter Martin, L door. 

3fartin. Missit 

Lo.nra. Admit no one till you bring me the name. 

Martin. I was about to tell yoa, Miss, that a strange man has 
forced himself in at the door and asks to see you, but will give no 
name. 

Ray. Kick the rascal out ! [Cross to L. 

Rearl. Oh ! don't let him come here. 

Martin. He's a very strange-looking person, Miss. 

Ray. I'll find out what this means ! {Is going to door L. when 
Byke appears at it smiling and bowing) 

Ryke. (l, h.) I'll spare you the trouble, if you'll hear me a 
minute. 

Ray. (l. c.) {violently.) Who are you, fellow ? 

Tyke. Don't, I beg you. Don't speak so crossly ; I might answer 
back — then you'd kick me out — and you'd never forgive yourself 
for it as long as I lived. 

Ray. Your business ? Come ! Speak quickly and begone. 

Ryke. {Coming down L.) Business ! on this happy day ! I came 

for x^leasure — to see Miss Courtland, my little pupil grown so 

only think, sir ! I knew her when she was only a little child 

I taught her music — she was so mu -ical — and so beautiful 1 

adored her, and her mother told me I needn't come again — But I 
did— and her mother was glad to see me. Wasn't she, little pupil V 
• — {to Laura, who is pale with terror, leaning on Pearl. Ray c, 
Byke l.) — and begged me co stay — but I said no — I'd call occasion- 
ally — to see my dear little pupil, and to receive any trifling contri- 
bution her mother might give me. Won't you shake hands, little 
pupil ? {Advances suddenly, when Ray grasps him by the collar — • 
Byke glares at him a moment. Then, quickly as before.) Don't I 
please, don't ! The stuff is old, and I've no other. 

Ray, The fellow's drunk ! Leave the house. 

Ryke. What ! after sending that touching bouquet ? 

Laura. It was you, then ? I knew it. 

Ryke. You see she knows me. Ah I memory how it blooms again 
where the plough of time has passed. 



8 UNDER TFIE GASLIGHT. 

Lanra. Leave this house at once. 

B}/ke. Not until I have spoken to you. 

Jiag. {Seizing him.) You miserable rascal. 

Biikc. Don't, pray don't ! I weigh a hundred and ninetj-^'lghl 
pounds, and if you attempt to throw me about you'll strain yotjfeelf 

Laura. {Crossing) Go. To-morrow in the morning 1 will see 
you. 

Bjfke. Thanks! I thank you, Miss, for your forbearance. (7* 
Ray.) I am also obliged to you, sir, for not throwing me out at tht 
window. I am indeed. I wish you good night, and many happy re 
turns of the day. {Bows and turns to go. Then familiarly to set*- 
vant.) Many calls to-day, John ? \^Exlt L. 

Raij. {Buns to Laura, icho is pale.) 

Laura. {Pointing after Byke.) See that he goes. 

{Exit Ray, l. door 

Lanra. {Taking both of Pearl's hands in her own.) Pearl, he 
must know everything. 

Feaii. O, dear ! this is dreadful ! I do hate scenes. 

Lanra. He miist know everything, I tell you ; and you mu.st re- 
late all. He will question — he will ponder — leave him nothing to 
ask. 

Pearl. If you wish it, but — 

Lanra. I desire it ; speak of me as you will — but tell him the 
truth. (Ray enters hastily, l.) Stay with her. Don't follow me. 

[^Exit R. 

Bay. {Down R. H.) Pearl, what does this mean. 

Pearl. 0, it's only a little cloud that I want to clear up for you. 

Bay. Cloud — how? where? 

Pearl. Don't I tell you I am going to tell you. Sit down here 
by me. {She sinks into tete-a-tete, c.) 

Bay. {Promenading.) He said he knew her. And she gave him 
an interview for to-morrow. That drunken wretch — 

Pearl. Do sit down. I can never speak while you are walking 
about so. {Gets up, brings him to a chair, R. h. and makes him sit) 
Sit by me, won't you ? for I've got something strange to tell you. 

Bay. You serious ! I'd as soon expect to see the lightning tamed. 
Well, I listen. 

Pearl. I have something to say to you, Ray, which you must 
settle with your own heart. You love Laura, do you not ? 

Bay. Pearl, I do more, I adore her. I adore the very air that she 
breathes. I will never be happy without her. I can swear tJiat. 

Pearl. Laura is twenty now. How do you think she looked when 
I first saw her ? 

Bay. Were you at home when she first came into this earthly 
sphere ? 

Pea^l Yes. 

Bay. W ell then, I suppose she looked very small and very pink. 

Pearl. She was covered with rags, barefooted, unkempt, crying 
and six years old. 

Bay. {Shocked.) Explain. 

Pearl. One night father and mother were going to the Opera 
When they w^^re crossing Broadway, the usual crowd of children 
accosted theni for alms. As mother felt in her pocket for some 
change, her fingers touched a cold and trembling hand which had 
clutched her purse. 



UNDEPw THE GASLIGl f. 9 

Bay. A pickpocket ! Well. 

Pearl. This hand my mother grasped Ir her own, and so tight- 
\y that a small, feeble voice uttered an exclamation of pain. Mother 
looked down, and there beside her was a little ragged girl. 

Hay. The thief. 

Pearl. Yes, but a thief hardly six years old, with a face like an 
angel's. " Stop ! " said my mother. " What are you doing ? " 
" Trying to steal," said the child. " Don't you know that it's wick- 
ed to do so ? " asked my father. " No," said the girl, " but it's dread- 
ful to be hungry." " Who told you to steal ? " asked my miother. 
** She — there ! " said the child, pointing to a squalid woman in a 
doorway opposite, who fled suddenly down the street. " That ia 
Old Judas," said the girl. 

Ray. Old Judas. What a name ! But how does this story in- 
terest us ? 

Pearl. This child was Laura. My father was about to let her 
go unharmed — but my mother said " No, it is not enough. We have 
a duty to perform, even to her," and acting on a sudden impulse, 
took her to our home. On being questioned there, the child seemed 
to have no recollection, save of misery and blows. My mother per- 
suaded father, and the girl was sent to a country clergyman's for 
instruction, and there she remained for several years. 

Ray. Pearl, you are joking with me. 

Pearl. In beauty, and accomplishments, and dignity, Laura 
,(as mother named her) exceeded every girl of her age. In grati- 
tude she was all that father could have wished. She was intro- 
duced as you know, into society as my cousin, and no one dreams c ( 
her origin. 

Ray. {Starthiff np). Laura, an outcast — a thief ! 

Pearl. (Rising). No, that is what she might have been. 

Ray. And this man — to-night. 

Pearl. All I know about him is, that four years ago this mau 
came with a cruel looking woman, to see mother. There was a 
fearful scene between them, for Laura and I sat trembling on the 
Bxairs, and overheard some awful words. At last they went away, 
the man putting money into his pocket as he left. 

Ray. But who were they? 

Pearl. Laura never told me, and mother would not. But, of course, 
they must have been Laura's father and mother. (Ray sinU on 
chair as if overcome.) 

Pearl. Mother made me promise never to tell anybody this, and 
you would have known nothing had not Laura made me speak. 
You see, she would not conceal anything from you. ( Goivg to him.) 
Ray, why don't you speak— shall I go after Laura ? Shall I tell 
her to come to you? Why don't you answer? {Going.) I'll go 
and tell her you want to see her. {Pausing as she goes n.) I'm going 
to send her to you, Ray. 

[ Goes off R. still looking hack at him. 

r^ay. {Starting up.) What a frightful story. Laura Courtland 
a thief! A drunken wretch who knows her history, and a squalid 
beggar woman who can claim her at any moment as their child. 
And I was about to marry her. Yes, and I love her. But what 
would my mother think ? My friends ? Society ? No— no— no— I 
cannot think of it. I will write her— I will tell her— pshaw ! she 
knows o^ course that I cannot wed her now ! {Goes to the tible l. u. 



10 UXDER THE GASLIGHT. 

E.) Here is paper. (Sils.) What am I about to do ? What uill 
be said of me ? But I owe a duty to myself — to society — I must 
perform it. ( WriUs.) " Laura, / have heard of all from yo7ir sister.'' 
What have I said — {crosseft out last word) — *' from Pearl. You knom 
that J Jove yon, bat my -motlier will demand of me a wife who will not blank 
to own her kindred, and ivho is not the da-agliter of ohsciirity and crime.'* 
It is just ; it is I wlio have been deceived, {Fo'ds letter and addresses 
if). I will leave it for her. {Pats on light overcoat, which hangs on 
chair at back.) I must go before she returns. Her step — too late I 
(Crams the letter into p jcket of overcoat. LaurA enters R. H.) 

Laura. {Gently). Ray. 

Kay. Miss — Miss Courtland. (Laura looks at him a moment, 
imilcs and then crosses C without further noticing him, and sits down on 
tefc-a-tete.) What have I said ? What ought I to have said ? (//e 
takes a step towards her — she rises, without looking at him goes to umidow — 
looks out, then looks over books on table R. H.) 

Bay. Laura — I — 

Laura. Pshaw, where is my book ? 

Jiay. What book do you want, Laura ? 

jMura. Sir. 

Ray. {Repulsed.) Oh \— {pause) — I've been a fool. How lovely she 
looks. {He follows her mechanically to table L.) Can I find it for you? 
[Laura picks up a book and reseats herself. 

LMura. Don't trouble yourself I beg. 

Ray. {Coming forward and leaning over her scat.) LaurA. 

Ljaura. { Without lifting her head.) Well. 

Ray. {Toying with her hair). Look at me. 

Laura. {Turns round and looks full at him.) 

Ray. No, no, not that way ; as you used to. You act as if I were 
a stranger. 

Lanra. They are only strangers who call me Miss Courtland. 
{Resumes reading.) 

Ray. Forgive me, I beg you to forgive me. {Coming romid and 
sitttmg beside her.) I was mad — it was so sudden — this miserable 
story — but I don't care what they say. O I do listen to me. I 
thought you hated reading. 

Lanra. 1 often wish that I were ugly, wretched and repulsive, 
like the heroine in this story. {Seats herself.) 

Ray. {Behind her.) Why? 

Laura. Because, then I could tell who really loved me. 

Ray. And don't you know ? 

Laura. No ; 1 do not. 

Ray. Well, I know. 

Ljaura. Do tell me then, pleftse. 

Ray. He has told you so himself a hundred times. 

Laura. You. 

Ray. I. 

Laura. {Laughing heartily at him, then seriously.) How happy 
must those women be, who are poor, and friendless, and plain, when 
8cme true heart comes and says : I wish to marry you. 

Ray. Laura, you act very fe.Tangely to-night. 

Laura. Will you put this book away ? 

Ray. {Throws it on. table.) There Laura. {Sects himself beside her.) 

lAiura. {Rising.) There's Pearl calling me. 

Ray. {R,sing and takhig her h : id.) Lauiia, why don't yoa let me 
epeak to you. 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 11 

Latira. About what ? 

Ray. About my love. 

Laura, For whom V Not me. This is only marriage and giving 
In marriage. I hate the very word. 

Bay. You did not think so once. 

Laura. I wish I had. I am frightened now ; I begin to imder- 
Btand myself better. 

May. And I am frightened because I understand you less. 

Laura. Do not try to ; good night. ( Vp e. c stops by door as 
ahe is going out,) good night Mr. Trafford. 

[Exit laugJdng, n. 2 E. 

May. I've been an ass. No, I wrong that noble animal. The 
ass recognized the angel, and I, like Balaam, was blind. But I see 
now. After all what have I to fear? (Takes letter from pocket.) 
No one knows of this, {puts it in his pocket again.) Let things go on ; 
we'll be married, go straight to Europe, and live there ten years. 
That's the way we'll fix it. 

{Exit L. 2 E. Scene closes in. 

BCENE n. (1st Grooves) — The Genflemeii^s coat-room at Del- 
MO'sico''a opening (€.) for hat ccnd coat. Chairs (l, 
H.) Pier-glass on flat. 

{Enter Windel and Demilt muffled., and with umbrellas L. 2 B. 
They proceed to disrobe.) 

Bern. Phew ! wet as the deuce, and cold, too. There'll be no- 
body here. 

Wind. It's an awful night. The rooms are almost empty. 

Dern. Sam ! Where the dickens is that darkey ? {Enter Sam r. 
fetching in a chair, and boot-black, box and brush) 

Sam. Here, sah. 

Dem. {Sitting in chair.) Hurry up with my boots. Who's here? 

Sam. Berry few gemman, sah ; only lebben overcoats and ten 
overshoes. Bless de Lord — dem overshoes is spilin the polishin bu- 
smess. 

l>em. Look out and don't give me any knocks. 

MHnd. {Handing in his coat at window and getting check for it.) I 
wonder if the Codrtland girls have come yet. 

Dem. What did Laura Courti.and ever see in Trafford tq 
fall in love with ? The Van Dam party is my fancy. 

Wijid. {Brii.^hing his hair at glass.) She's ten years older than 
you, and has a husband. 

Bein. Yes, a fine old banker, on whom she can draw for every- 
thing but attention and affection. She has to get that by her own 
business tact. 

{Other parties enter, exchange good-nights, and deposit their 
coats ; some go out at once., some arrange themselves at glass.) 

Lem. That'll do, Sam, take my coat. {Enter Ray, l. 1 e.) 

Wind. Hallo! Trafford, this is a night, ain't it? Have tho 
Courtlands come ? 

Ray. Not with me. Here, Sam, take my coat. {His coat is pidled 
off bi, Sam, and /our leUers dropout) Stupid. 

Dem. Save the pieces. Mind the love letters. 



12 ITNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Rat/. ( PicMng them up.) Look out well next time. There's that 
cursed letter I was goinp^ to send to Laura. Confound it, I must 
deBtioy it when I go home. {Futs letters back in overcoat pocket.) 
(Ray gets his boots touched up.) 

J)em. I say, Trafford, what'll you take, and let a fellow read 
those ? WiNDEL, I guess if the girls could get into the cloak-room, 
it would be better than the dead-letter office. What a time they'd 
have 1 Are you ready ? 

Wind. What's the use of hurrying ? There's no life in the party 
till Laura Courtland comes. By Jove, Trafford! you're iu 
luck. She's the prettiest girl in New York. 

Hat/. And the best. {March nmsic heard.) 

Bern. There's the march music; let's go. {Gets a final brush a» 
they all go off A 1 E ) 

Kay. Come along. [Exunt. 

Sam. (Pickiuy np a letter dropped from Ray'S pocket.) Dere'a 
anoder of dem billy dooses ; wonder if it am Mist' Trafford's. 
Eh, golly ! musn't mix dem gentlemen's letters, — musn't mix 'em 
nohow, — or an oberruling providence wouldn't be able to stop fight- 
ing in dis city for de nex month. 

[Exit, carrying a chair ^ r. 1 e. 

(Scene draws off to dance music.) 

( Wait till change of music be/ore change of Sc.) 



SCENE 111.— The Blue Boom at Delmonico's. Waltz-music as 
the Scene opens. Waltzei's in motion. Pearl is 
dancing with Mrs. Van Dam. 

{Enter Trafford, Demilt, and Windel, r. l. r.) 

Pearl There's Ray. I've had enough; I want to speak with 
him. {Bursts army from Mrs. Van D., runs up to TRAFFORD. Db 
Milt goes up to Mrs. Van D.) 

Pearl. (To Ray.) You lazy fellow, where have you been ? 

Dem. You're not tired, are you ? I 

3frs. V. I).. I feel as fresh as a daisy. 

I>c7n. Have a waltz with me. ( Waltz music, piano, as they dayice, 
WiNDEL goes to SUE Earlie.) 

Kay. {Coming down with Pearl.) Where's Laura ? 

Pearl. She wasn't ready, and I was dying to come. Been fixed 
since eight o'clock ; so I came with Sue Earlie. So you made it 
up with Laura. 

Ray. Yes. Don't say anything more about the horrid subject. 
W^e've made it all up. But what on earth keeps her to-night ? It'a 
eleven already. {Looking at watch.) Confound it, I tremble every 
moment she's out of my sight. 1 fear that terrible man and hia 
secret. 

jMrs. V. D. {Coming vp with Demilt.) Trafford, you look very 
uneasy. What's the matter? 

Kay. 0, nothing. I think I ought to go for Laura. I will, too. 
{Servant passes at back.) Here 1 go up etairs for my overcoat. {Gives 
(he man a card, and he goes ovf.\ 

Mrs. V. J). Nonsense ! She'll be here in good time. You shan't 
It-ave U9 ^^old him. Pearl W^ewant a nine-pin quadrille: we 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. IS 

haven't half enough arentlemen. Come, be jolly about it. Yoxx 
lovers are always afraid some one will carry your g^rls away. 

Ji<ii/. {L^nea.'iy.) 1? I'm not afraid. 

Fcarl. Come, come ! I never saw such a restless fellow. 

(Servant enters ivith coot, c.) 

Servant. Here's your coat, sir. 

3/rs. Van D. Give it to me. I'm determined you shan t go. 
' Takes coat careUs-slt/.) I'll make you a promise — if Laura isn't here 
in fifteen minutes you shall have* your coat, and may go for her. 

Jiai/, Well, I suppose I'll have to wait. 

Mrs Van D. There ; take him off, Pearl. (Kay goes up with 
PjEARL. To Servant.) Here take this back. I/'iijips coat to Ser- 
vant. As she does so, letters drop from it.) Well, there's a mess ' 
(Sue Earlie and another lady run forward and pick up letters.) Love 
letters, of course ! — { Smelling them.) Perfumed to suffocation. 

Sue Earlie. Here's one for Laura. It's unsealed and not deliv 
ered. 

3Irs. Van D. {Tremolo waltz music.) A fair prize ! Let's see it. 
{Music. Takes and opens it. Puts on er/e-jlasses and reads.) 
*' Laura" — Well, come ! That's cool for a lover. " I have heard all 

from " something scratched out — ah ! — " Your sister, Pearl— 

Your ohscure origin — terrible family connexions — the secret of the 
tie which hinds you to a drunlcen wretch — My mother., Society — icill 
demand of me a wife who will not blush to own, her Jcindred., — or 
start at the name of outcast and thief! 

" Signed, Ray Trafford." 

{All stand speechless and loolc at each other. All this time tht, 
rest hate heen dancing.) 

Sue Earlie. What can it mean? 

Mrs. Van D. It means that the rumors of ten years ago are prov- 
en. It was then suspected that the girl whom Mrs. Courtland 
brought every year from some unnamed place in the country, and 
introduced to everybody as her niece, was an impostor, which that 
foolish woman, in a freak of generosity, was thrusting upon society. 
The rumors died out for want of proof — and before Laura's beauty 
and dignity — but now they are confirmed. She is some beggar's 
child. 

Sue Earlie. What do you think we ought to do ? (Trafford 
surrenders Pearl to DemiLT, and comes down.) 

Mrs. Van 1). Tell it — tell it everywhere, of course. The best 
blood of New York is insulted by the girl's presence. (Trafford 

coming down.) 

Hay. (r. h.) What have you three girls got your heads togeth- 
er for ? Some conspiracy, I know. 

Mr^. Van D. {To Indies.) Go girls — tell it everywhere. 

Ray. {As the ladies distribnte themselves about the groups.) What ia 
it all about ? Your face is like a portrait of mystery. 

Mrs. Van D. {Shewing letter.) Look at this, and tell me what it 
means. 

Kay. {Quickly) Where did you get this ? 

3Irs, Van D It is you who must answer — and Society that will 
question. So LauraIs not a Courtland ? 

Hay. {Overcome.) You know, then, 

Mrs. Van D. Everything; and will you marry this creature 1 
Tou cannot. Society wiU not permit your sacrifice. 



14 FNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Jlay. This is not your business. Give me that letter. 

Mr». Van D. Certainly ; take it. But let me say one tv ftrd — its 
contents are known. In an hour every tongue will queJiion you 
about this secret, — every eye will inquire. 

Ray. I implore you ! Do not breathe a word for her sake. «S//d 
iurns scornful! 1/ awm;.) 

Mrs,. Va-)i I). The secret's not mine. 

Ray. Who knows it ? 

Mrs. Van D. Look ! {Points to others who are grouped about 
whispering and motioning toicards Ray. Peakl enters here E., 
and sjjeaJ^s to lady and gents l. c.) 

Ray. ( Wildly.) What will they do? 

Mrs. Van D. Expose her I Expel her from society in which she 
is an intruder ! 

Ray. You dare not 1 

[Peabl comes forward L. 

Pearl. O, Ray ! What is the meaning of this ? 

Ray. {Bitterly.) It means that society is 3 terrible avenger of 
insult. Have you ever heard of the Siberian wolves ? When one 
of the pack falls through weakness, the others devour him. It is 
not an elegant comparison — but there is something wolfish in soci- 
ety. Lauka has mocked it with a pretence, and society, which is 
made up of pretences, will bitterly resent the mockery, 

J/rs. Va7i D. Very good ! This handsome thief has stolen your 
breeding as well as your brains, I see. 

Ray. Ii you speak a word against her, I wdll say that what you 
utter is a lie ! 

Mrs. Van D. As you please, we will be silent. But yon will find 
that the world speaks most forcibly when it utters no sound. 

Pearl. O, go and prevent her coming here. 

Ray. That I can do, {going up hastily sees Laura entering at C. D.) 
Too late. {Ue retreats r. c ) 

Mrs. Van P. Come girls ! Let us look 'after our things. They 
are no longer safe when such an accomplished thief enters. 

{Music low as Lauka enters, continues while all except Peabl 
and Ray pass out, eyeing her superciliously. Laura c. Peael. r.) 

Pearl. Ray, Ray, why do you not come to her? 

ITrs. Van P. ( Up c. of stage, surrounded by others.) Are you no 
coming with us Trapford ? 

Pearl. {To Laura.) Let us go home. 

Laura. No ; stay with Irim., {pointing ^oRay, loho has held off.) He 
shall not suffer the disgrace long! {About to faint, R\Y rt'isfot' 
*tard. she proudly waves him away.) It is Heaven's own blow. 

Picture— Qh?c-^- Curtain, 
S. Rat. Laura and Pearl, c. Party at back. 



ACT II. 

{Green Cl.th doKn,) 
SCENE l,~~Iiderior of a Basement. Street and railinga seen 
through inindow at bach. Entrance to F. from D. P. 
L. H. Stove iciih long pipe in f re-place, e. u. e. Table 
beticeen txDO windoim at back, with foicers, &c. 
Humble furniture. Table c. three chairs. Closet V. 

E. L. H. 

Peachblossom is discovered polishing stove r. n. — a slip-shod 
girl a la Fanchon. 

SOiSTG— Peach : 

A lordly knight and a lovel}' dame, were walking in the meadow, 

But a jealous rival creeping came a-watcbing in the shadow; 

They heeded not, but he whet his knife and dogg'd them in the shadow. 

The knight was brave, and the dame was true, the rival fared but badly ; 

For the'knight he drew and ran him through, and left him groaning sadly; 

The knight and dame soon wedded were, with bells a-chiming gladly. 

Teach. (Talking while working.) The stove won't shine. It's the 
fault of the polish I know. That boy that comes here, just fills the 
bottles with mud, and calls it stove polish. Only let me catch him. 
Ah ! Ah ! {threatning gesture with brush.) I declare I'd give it up if 
I didn't want to make everything look smart, before Miss NiNA 
comes in. Miss Nina is the only friend I ever had, since I ran 
away from Mother Judas. I wonder where old Judas is now ? I 
know she's drunk ; she always was ; perhaps that's why she never 
tried to find out what became of me. If she did she could not tako 
me away. Miss Nina begged me off a policeman. I belong to 
her. I wonder why she ain't got any other friends ? She's awful 
mysterious. Tells me never to let any strangers see her. She's 
afraid of somebody, I know. It looks just as if she was hiding. I 
thought only bad girls, such as I, had to hide. If I was good and 
pretty like her, I wouldn't hide from the President. {Still polish- 
ing.) (Judas apppars at roindov) with basket of ornaments^ dec.) 

Judas. Hum ! Is your ma in my dear ? 

Teach. (Starting.) Oh! (aside.) Old JuDAS ! She's found me out 
at last. No she h'aint, or she'd have got me by the hair before she 
spoke. That's her way. 

Judas. (Coming in at door. Phach keeps her hack towards her.) 
Any old clothes to change for chany, my dear ? Where's your ma's 
old skirts and shawls, my pet. Get 'em quick before mother comes 
in, and I'll give you a beautiful chany mug or a tea-pot for them. 
Cooie here, my ducky— eee the pretty — (recognizes Peach.) Eh I 
why you jail-bird, what are you doing here ? Are you sneakin' it ? 
Answer me, or I'll knock youi^head agin the wall. (Catches her by 
the hair.) 

Pencil. You just leave me be? I'm honest I am ! I'm good. 

Judas. You're good ? Where's my shoe? I'll take the goodness 
out o. you. 

15) 



16 UNDER THE GASLIGUT. 

Peach. Oh, oil ! please don't bea^ me. I ain't good. I'm only 
trying to be. 

Judas. You're only trying to be, eh ? Trying to be good, and 
here's me as was a-weeping every night, thinklHg as you was sent 
up for six months. Who're you living with — you ain't a-keeping 
house, are you? 

Feach. I'm living with Miss Nina. 

Judas. Nina, what's she, conecrt-saloon girl ? 

Peach. No, she's a lady. 

JudaK. A lady — and have such baggage as you about. Where*a 
my shoe, I'll make you speak the truth. 

Peach. I don't know what she is. She met me when the police 
was taking me up for loafin' down Hudson Street, and she begged 
me off. 

Judas. Has she any money ? 

Peach. No, she's poor. 

Judas. Any nice clothes ? 

Peach. O, she's got good clothes. 

Jtidas. Where are they ? 

Peach. Locked up, and she's got the key. 

Judas. You're lying, I see it in your eye. You're always shame- 
faced when you are telling the truth, and now you're as bold as 
brass. Where's my shoe ? {making a dash at her.) 

Peach. (Shouting.) There's MiSS Nina {as if curtseying to some 
one behind JuDAS.) Good morning, miss. 

Judas. { Changing her tone.) Ah ! my pretty dear ! What a good 
lady to take you in and give you a home. {Turns and discovers the 
deception — in a rage.) You hussy, (PEACH retreats) wait till I get 
you in my clutches again, my lady ; and it won't be long. Miss 
Nina takes care of you, does she. Who will take care of her ? 
Let her look to it. (Laura cnteiS D. F. plainly dressed, at back.) 
Beg pardon, Miss, I just called to see if you had any old clothes 
you'd like to exchange. 

Laura. No, I don't want anything, my good woman. 
Judas. {Eyeing her sharply and going to door.) That's her — I'd know 
her anywheres ! {Malicious glance^ and exit.) 

Laura. You've been very good this morning. Blossom. The 
room is as nice as I could wish. 

Peach. Please 'm, I tried because you are so good to me. 
(Laura taking off her shawl and things.) Shall I sweep out the airy r 
(Laura docs not answer.) I guess I'd better — then she'll be alone, 
as she loves to bo. {Takes broom and exit., D. F.) 

Laura {Solos. Opening a package and taking out photographs.) No 
pay yet for coloring, 'till I have practiced a week longer. Then I 
Bhall have all the work I can do. They say at the photographer s I 
color well, and the best pictures will be given me. The best ! 
Already I have had beneath my brush so many faces that I know, 
friends of the old days. The silent eyes seem to wonder at me for 
bringing them to this strange and lowly home. {Picking up letters 
from table.) Letters ; ah ! answers *to my advertisement for em- 
ployment. No, only a circular " To the lady of this house." What's 
that! {Starting) only Blossom sweeping. Every time ther-^ is a 
noise I dread the entrance of some one that knows me. But they 
could never find me in New York, I left them all too secretly and 
Buddenly, None of them can expect I would have descended te 



TJXDEK THE GASLIGHT. l'» 

this. Bat it \s natural, everything will find its level, i sprang 
from poverty, and I return to it. Poor Pearl. How she must 
have wondered the next morning — Laura gone? But three 
months have passed, and they have forgotten me. Ray will cheer 
her. ( WrancfUvg outride, PeachBLOSSOM burntH in dragging BERMU- 
DAS, idth hh profesfiionai iape^ pins, blacking and bankets, D. P. 

Peach. Here he is m'm. 

Ber. Leave go, I tell yer, or I'll make yer. 

Laura. What is the matter? 

Peach. He's the boy that sold me that stove polish what isn't 
itove polish. 

Ber. What is it then — s-a-a-y ? 

J^each. It's mud 1 it's mud at ten pence a bottle. 

Ber. Ah! Where could I get mud? Ain't the streets clean t 
Mud's dearer than stove polish now. 

Peach. And your matches is wet, and your pins won't stick, and 
your shoe-strings is rotten, there now ! 

Ber. Well, how am I to live ; it ain't my fault, it's the taxes. 
Ain't I got to pay my income tax, and how am I to pay it if I gives 
you your money's worth ? Do you think I'm Stewart — Sa-a-y ? 

Laura. Do let the boy alone, Blossom. Send him away. {Enter 
Peanuts at door flat.) 

Peanuts. Extra! Hollo, Bermudas! how's your sister? Pa- 
pers. Miss. Extra ! Revolution in Mexico 1 

Laura. Dear, dear, this is the way I'm worried from morning till 
night. 

Ber. Here, just you get out ! This is my beat. 

Peanuts. Veil, I ain't blacking or hairpins now, I'm papers — - 
How'm I hurting you ? 

Ber. Veil, I'm papers at four o'clock, and this is my beat. Take 
c&re of me, I'm in training for a fight. I'm a bruiser, I am. 

Peanuts. Hold yer jaw^. (they fight.) 

Peach. {Beats them with broom.) Get out with you. Both of you. 
{Grand escapade and exit of hoys. d. f.) 

Laura. Don't let be troubled in this way again. Have you got 
the things for dinner ? 

Peach. Lor, no, miss! It's twelve o'clock, and I forgot ! 

(Peach gets shawl, tig ionnet from hooks on the icall, basket 
from closet, while Lauka ojjens htr pocket-book for money.) 

LMura. What did w-e have for dinner yesterday, Blossom ? 

Peach. Beefsteak, 'm. Let's have some leg o' mutton to-day. 
We've lievei had that. 

Lcnrc. But I don't know how to cook it. Do ycu ? 

Peach. No, but I'd just slap it on, and it's sl re to come out 
right. 

Laur. Slap it on what ? 

Peach. The gridiron. 

La?ira. {Giving money.) No, we'd better not try a leg of mutton 
to-day. Get some lamb chops, we know how to manage them. 

Peach. {As she is going.) Taters, as usual, 'mum? 

Laura. Yes ; and stop Blossom — while you're buying the chops, 
mst ask the butcher — off hand — you know — how \e would cook a 
leg of mutton, if he were going to eat it himself!- sis if you wanted 
to know for yourself. 

Peach. Yes'm — but I'm sure it's just as good broiled as fried. 

[Lxit D. F. 



18 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Laura. Z^ow to be cook. {Lmu hinf;.) " The Tuesday Sociable '* 
ought to sec me now. Artist iu the morniag^ cook at noon, artist 
in the afteinooti. xSnorkey raps at Uic door P. and enters.) 

Sruirkci;. (With letter.) Beg pardon, is there anybody here as an 
Bwers to the name of A. B. C. ? 

Laura. (Aside.) My advertisement for work. — Yes, give it to 
me. 

ISnorkcy. {Seeivg her face) If I'd been taking something this 
morningj 'I'd say that I'd seen that face in a different sort of place 
fiom this. 

Laura. Is there anything to pay ? Why do you wait ? 

Snorkey. Nothing, Miss. It's all right. {Going — and aside.) 
But it ain't all right, Snokkey, old boy ! {Goes out after loohing 
at her., stoics at tcindotc, and gazes in.) 

Laura. { Without rMicing him., opening letter.) Yes, an answer 
to my advertisement. {Meads.) To A. B. C. : " Tour adtertise- 
riient promises that you are a good linguist, and can teach chil- 
dren of any age. I hade two daughters for whom I wish to engage 
your services ichile on a tour of Europe. Call at seven o'' clock., 
this evening, at JVo. 207 W. dUh Street. Ais^ersley." Hope at 
Ifist — a home, and in another land soon. I wasfeure the clouds 
would not always be black above me I {Kisses letter. Snokkey 
re-entering.) 

Snorkey. Miss, I say, Miss. (Laura starts.) — Sh 

Laura. What do you want ? 

Snorkey. Only one word— and perhaps it may be of service to 
you. I'd do anything to serve you. 

LMura. And why me ? 

Snorkey. I'm a blunt fellow, Miss, but I hope my way don't of- 
fend. Ain't you the lady that I brought a bouquet to on New Year's 
night — not here, but in a big house, all bright and rich — and who 
was so kind to a poor soldier ? 

Laura. {Faint and leaning against chair) Whoever you may be, 
promise to tell no one you saw me liere. 

Snorkey. No fear. Miss ! I promise. 

Laura. Sacredly ! 

Snorkey. No need to do more than promise, Miss — I keeps my 
word. I promised Uncle Sam I'd stick to the flag— though they 
tore my arm off, and by darnation I stuck. I don't want to tell oik 
you Miss. I want to tell on some one else. 

L.aura. What do you mean ? 

Stiorkey. They're looking for you 

Laura. Who ? 

Snorkey. Byke. (Laura utters a loud cry and sinks on chair.) 
He's on it day and night. I've got his money in my pocket now, 
and you've got his letter in your hand this minute. 

(Laura droj^s the letter in dmnay. 

Laura. This ? 

Suorkey. Yes, it his writin' — looks like a woman's, don't it? 
Lord ! the snuff that man's up to, would make Barnum sneeze 
his head off. He's kept me in hand, 'cause he thinks I know you, 
having seen you that oncb. Every day he reads the advertise- 
ments, and picks out a dozen or so and says to me : •'• Snorkey, 
that's Jike my little pet," and then he sits down and answers them, 



Tr:Kl>ER THE GASLIGHT. 19 

end gets tlie advertisers to make appointments ^\'it]. Lira, which lie 
keeps regularly, and regularly comes hack cussing at his ill luck. 
See hei*e Miss, I've a bundle of answers to deliver, as usual, to 
advertisers. I calls 'em Byke's Target Practice, and this time, you 
Bee, he's accidentally hit the mark. 

Laura. For Heaven's sake do not betra}^ me to him! I've got 
very little money, I earn it hardly ; but take it, take it — and say« 
me. {Offers vioncy) 

Snorkeih No, Miss : not a cent of it. Though Byke is a devil, 
and would kick me hard if he thought I would betray him. 

Laura. I don't want you to suffer for my sake, take the money. 

Snorkey. No, I stood up to be shot at for thirteen dollars a 
month, and I can take my chances of a kickin' for nothing. But 
Byke ain't the only one Miss, there's another's looking for you. 

Laura. {JJer look of joy changbig to fear.) Another ! Who ? 

iS7iorkfy. (Approaclrhig smUi7iyli/ and covjiilcnlial .) Mr. TraffoeD. 
(Laura turvs aside despairinyh/.) He's been at me every day for 
more than six weeks. " Snorkey " says he, " do you remember that 
beautiful young lady you brought the bouquet to on New Year's 
night ?" " Well," says I, " Capt'n, the young lady I slightly disre- 
member, but the cakes and wine I got there that night I shall 
never forget." " Search for that young lady," says he, " and when 
you find her " — 

Laura. No, no, no ; not even he must know. Do you hear — 
not he — not anyone. You have served them well ; serve me and 
bo silent. 

Snorkey. Just as you please. Miss, but I hate to serve you by 
putting your friends off the track — it don't seem natural — Byke I 
don't mind ; but the Capt'n wouldn't do you any harm. Just let 
me give him a bit of a hint. (Laura makes an entreating gesture.) 
Well I'm mum, but as I've only got one hand, it's hard work to 
hold my tongue. {Going.) Not the least bit of a hint? (Laura 
aj)pecdingly and then turns aicay) They say when a v/oman says 
no, she means yes ! I wonder if I dare tell her that he's not far 
off. Perhaps I'd better not. But I can tell him. {Exit D. F. 

Laura. How shall I ever escape that dreadful man ? And Ray 
searching for me too ! Our friends then remember us as well as our 
enemies. (Peachblossom enters quickly D. P. shutting the door 
behind her, uith basket uhich she places on table c.) 

Peach. C Miss Nina, whatever is into the people? There's a 
strange man coming down the entry. I heard him asking that red 
cap fellow about you. 

Ljaura. Byke 1 Fasten the door quick, (Peach runs to door, it 
is slightly opened, she piushes it against some one on the other side.) 

Peach. O dear ! He's powerful strong, I can't keep it shut. Go 
avv'ay you willin ! Oh ! {The door is forced and Ray enters.) 

Ray. {Advancing c.) Laura — It is I. 

Laura, (r. ii.) Ray! {Shrinks from him.) 

Pay. Dear Laura ! {He stops as he becomes conscious that Blossom 
tdth her basket on her arm and her bonnet hanging on her back is 
staring at him ) I say, my girl, havn't you some particular business 
eomewhere else to attend to ? 

Peach, {^eiionsly, L. H.) No, sir ; I've swept the sidewalk and 
gone a marketing, and now I'm in doors and I mean tc stay . 

Hay. And wouldn't you oblige me by going for a sueetof paper 



20 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

and an euvelope ? Here's a dollar — try and see how slow you 
can be. 

Peach. {Firmly) You can't sheet of paper me, mister; I'm pro- 
tecting Miss Nina, and I'm not to be enveloped. 

Laurel. Go as the gentleman asks you, Blossom. 

Fcacli. Oh ! {Takes money, fixes her bonnet.) First it's *' Keep 
the man out," now it's " Let him stay in alone with me." But I 
suppose she's like all of us — it makes a great difference which man 
it is. 

{Exit, D. P. 

Ray. {After icatching Peach out) Latjka, when I approached 
you, you shrank from me. Why did you so ? 

Laura. Look around you and find your answer. 

Ray. {Shuddering) Pardon me, I did not come here to insult 
your misery. When I saw you I forgot everything else. 

Laura, (h. c.) And now it's time for us to remember every- 
thing. I told you to look around that you might understand that 
in such a place I am no longer Laura Courtland, nor anything I 
used to be. But I did not ask your pity. There is no misery here. 

Ray. Alone, without means, exposed to every rudeness, impro- 
tected, is this not misery for you? 

Laura. {Laughing) Oh, it's not so bad as that. 

Ray. Laura, don't trifle with me. You cannot have exchanged 
everything that made you happy, for this squalid poverty, and not 
feel it deeply. 

Laurel. I have not time to feel anything deeply. Takes basket 
up, goes to table, busies herself about pre2Kiring dinner) I work 
from sunrise till night, and I sleep so soundly that I have not even 
dreams to recall the past. Just as you came in I was about to cook 
our dinner. Only think — lamb chops ! 

Ray. Lamb chops ! It makes me shudder to hear you speak. 

Laura. Does it ? Then wait till I get the gridiron on the fire, 
and you'll shiver. And if you w^ant to be transfixed with horror, 
stop and take dinner. 

Ray. I will not hear you mock yourself thus, Laura. I tell you 
in this self-banishment you have acted thoughtlessly — you have 
done wrong. 

Laura. Why ? 

Ray. BecauBe, let the miserable creatures who slandered you say 
what they might, you had still a home and friends. 

Laura. A home! Where the very servants would whisper an •! 
point. Friends who would be ashamed to acknowledge me. You 
are mistaken. That is neither home nor friendship, 

Ray. And you are resolved to surrender the past forever. 

Laura. The past has forgotten me in spite of myself. 

Ray. Look at me. 

Laura. {Coming down, c.) Well then, there's one who has not 
forgotten me, but 1 desire that he may. You speak to me of bitter- 
ness. Your presence, your words, cause me the first pang I have 
felt since the night I fled unnoticed from my chamber, and began 
my life anew. Therefore I entreat you to leave me, to forget me. 

Ray. Laura, by the tie that once bound us!— 

Jjaura. {Going up) Yes, once. It is a long time ago. 

Ray. What have I said ? — the tie which still— 

Laura. {Sharply ti'^rnhuj) Mr. Traff )RD, must I remintl you 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 21 

of that niglit, when all arrayed themselves so pitilessly against me ? 
When a g-esture from youmi.q-ht have saved me ! And yon saw me 
sink without stretching a finger to the v/oman who had felt the 
beating of your heart. No, you made your choice then — the world 
without me. I make my choice nov/ — the wide, wide, world with- 
out you. 

Ray. I have been bitterly punished, for we are never so humili- 
ated as when we despise ourselves. But, by the Heaven above us 
both, I love you Laura, I have never ceased to love you. 

Laura. 1 thank you. I know how to construe the love which 
you deny in the face of society, to offer me behind its back. 

Ray. Will you drive me mad ! I tell you Laura, your misery, 
your solitude is as nothing to the anguish I have suffered. The 
maniac who in his mental darkness, stabs to the heart the friend 
he loved, never felt in returning reason the remorse my error has 
earned me. Every day it says to me : " You have been false to the 
heart that loved you, and you shall account for it to your conscience 
all your life. You shall find that the bitterest drops in the cup of 
sorrow, are the tears of the woman you have forsaken." And it is 
true. O, forgive me — have pity on me. 

Laura. {Moved.) I forgive you. Yes, and I pity you — and, so 
good-bye, forever. 

Ray. Of course, I am nothing to you now. That is some com- 
fort to me. I have only to be sorry on my own account. But, I 
come to you on behalf of others. 

Laura. W^hom ? 

Ray. My mother and Pearl. They ask for you. For them I 
have sought you, to urge you to return to them. 

Laura. Dear little Pearl. 

Ray. Yes, she has been quite ill. 

Laura. She has been ill ? 

Ray. Think of those two hearts which you have caused to suffer 
and do not drive me from you. It is not only wealth, luxury and 
refinement which you have surrendered — you have also cast away 
those greater riches : loving and devoted friends. But they shall 
persuade you themselves. Yes, I'll go and bring them to you, you 
cannot resist their entreaties. 

Lcnra. No, no, they must not come here. They must never 
know where I hide my shame, and you must never reveal it.. 

Ray. I promise it, if you will go to them with me. Think, they 
vfiM insist on coming unless you do. 

Laura. Poor Pearl ! If I go with you, you promise not to de- 
tain me — to permit me to come back, and to trouble me and my 
poor life no more v 

Ray. I promise ; but I know you will release me from it when 
Toa see them. I will get a carriage. So that no one will meet you, 
\yait for me, I shall not be long. It is agreed ? 

Laicra. {Smiling.) Yes, it is agreed. 

yEnter Peacitblossom, d. ¥. idth a sheet of paper, foolscap, and 
8o?ne enoi'mous envelopes. 

Peach, (l. h.) Here they are. 

Ray. C. That's a good girl, keep them till I cc oe back. In hali 
ftn Lour, Laura, be ready. [Ev'd d. f. 



22 \JXDER THE GASLIGHT, 

Peach {With an air.) What's lie going to do in lialf 8.^ !iou. ( 

Laura, He's going to take me away with him for a litt/,t whilv , 
Blossom, and while I'm gone, I wish you to be a good ///I, and 
watch the house, and take care of it till I retu'rn. 

Peach. I don't believe it. You won't return. {Crying ) That's 
what our Sal said when she went off with her young man, and she 
never came back at all. You shan't go ; I hate him. lie') shan't 
take you away. 

Laura. BLOSSOM ! {Wlio is getting ready, putting Jierlat &n, dc.) 

Peach. I don't care. If you go away, 111 go away ; J i] bite and 
scratch him if he comes back. {Fiercely tearing iip the pt^iper and 
envelopes.) Let him come back. Let him dare come ba -k. 

Laura. Blossom, you're very wicked. Go into the corner this 
minute and put your apron over your head. 

Peach. {Crying at Laura's /^t?;.) O, please, Miss Nif k, let me go 
with you, and I'll be so good and not say a word to any « no. L>o let 
me go with you. Let me ask him to let me go with y» a. {Figure 
passes the icindoiD.) Here he is ; I see him coming. 

Laura. Run ! run ! open the door. (Peach runs to 'j!oor ; ilvrc^xs 
it open, disclosing Byke.) {Exclamation of horror from .jAuj.a..) 

Byhe. {Advancing) Ah, my dear little runaway 1 Fovad you 
at last,— and just going out. How lucky ! I wanted /ou «.; take a 
walk with me. 

Laura. Instantly leave this place ! 

Byke. How singular ! you are always ordering mc owt, s nd I am 
always coming in. We want a change. 1 will go ou , ajj A i request 
you to come with me. 

Laura. Blossom, go find an officer. Tell him th 5 V'Tetch is in- 
sulting me. 

Byke. Blossom ? ah, — exactly ! Here you, Jt B'.n ! (Juda? 
appears at door, down l. h.) ' (Peach crosses to Laui-a r.) 

Judas. O, Miss, save me ! 

Byke. {Throics Peach over to Judas, l.) Tats care of that 
brat. And as for you, daughter, — come with me. 

Laura. Daughter ! 

Byke. Yes ; it is time to declare myself. Pate ml feeling has 
been too long smothered in my breast. Come to my a rms, my child, 
my long-estranged child ! {Takes out dirty handkerchief and presses 
his eyes with pretended feeling.) 

Laura. God! is there no help coming ? {She attjmjyts to escape. 
Byke seizes her.) 

Byke. What, unfilial girl ! You take advantage of a father's 
weakness, and try to bolt ! {Clutching her hy the arm.) Como, go 
v/ith me ; and cheer my old age. Aint I good, to take you back 
ftf.er all tliese years? 

PiCTUEE.— (^wic^ Curtain, 



ACT I!!. 

SCENE I.— The Tcmh Police Court. Long V.gli desl, with threi 
seats, across l/ack from e. to l. on Flafform. Railing 
in front. Railing around l. h. icith opening c. In, 
front of railing^ a bench R. and l. h. Gate in c. of 
raiting. 

Judge Bowling and another Justice seated behind 
high desk, c. with derh on his L. ii. Jiigtice is reading 
jpaper, with his feet ujJondesJc, r. h. Policeman at R. 
and L., 1, 2, E. Policeman 9-9-9 at gate, c. Hard- 
looHng set ofmea and women on benches, r, and. l. 
Laicyer Splinter i\' talking to Eafferdi, who is in 
croicd dozen r. 

{As the cur'ain rises noisy buzz is heard.) 

Bow. Smith ers, keep those people vjAqX. (9-9-9 handling people 
roughly.) Here — easy, officer ; treat those poor people decently. 
Well, whom have you got there ? 

9-9-9. {Going to 1, e. l. h., and dragging urchin icithin railing.) 
Pickpocket, your Honor. Caught in the act. 

Bow. What's he got to say for himself r Nothing, eh? What's 
his name ? 

9-9-9. {Stooping doicn to boy as if asking him.) Says his name is 
Peter Rich. 

Bow. You stand a poor chance. Rich ! Take him away. (Bow- 
ling consults icith other Justice, as the boy is taken off e. r. h.) 

Splinter. {To Rafferdi, ichohashis monkey and organ.) So you 
want to get out, eh? How much money have you got? 

Raff\ Be jabers ! half a dollar in cents is all the money I'm worth 
in the world, 

Splin. Give it to me. I thought you organ fellows were Italians. 

Raff\ Devil doubt it ! Aint 1 got a monkey ? 

9-9-9. Here, you ; come up here. {Takes Rafferdi inside the 
railing, l. h.) 

Bow. Now, then ; what's this, officer? 

9-9-9. (Rafferdi takes stand r.) Complaint of disturbing the 
neighborhood. 

Boic. What have you got to say for yourself? 

Splin. (r. h.) If your Honor please, I appear for this man. 

Bow. Well, what have you got to say for him ? 

Splin. Here is an unfortunate man, your Honor — a native of 
Sunny Italy. He came to our free and happy country, and being a 
votary of music, he bought an organ and a monkey, and tried to 
earn his bread. But the myrmidons of the lav/ were upon him, and 
the Ergle of Liberty drooped his pinions as Rafferdi was hunied 
to liio dungeon, 

(-S) 



24 "UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Bow. Raffeedi ! — You're an Irishman, ain't you ? What do 
you mean by deceiving us ? 

Raf. Sure I didn't. It's the lawyer chap there. I paid him fifty 
cints and he's lying- out the worth of it. 

Boic. You fellows are regular nuisances ! I've a great mind to 
commit you. 

Splin. Commit him ! If the Court please — reflect — commit him 
—to prison— what will become of his monkey ? 

Bow. Well, I'll commit him too. 

Splin. You cannot. I defy the Court to find anything in the 
Statutes authorizing the committal of the monkey. 

BoiD. Well, we'll leave out the monkey. 

Splin. And if the Court please, what is the monkey to do in the 
wide world, with his natural protector in prison ? I appeal to those 
kindlier feelings in your honor's breast — which must ever temper 
justice with mercy. This monkey is perhaps an orphan ! 

BoiD. {Laughing) Take them both away, and don't let me 
catch you here again Mr. Rafferdi or you'll go to jail. 

[Exit Rafferdi 1 e. l. h. Splinter goes down, Raf. JExits. 

9-9-9. {Pulling Sam who is drunk out of a crowd.) Get up here. 

Sam. {Noisily.) Look yah — don't pull me around. 

Bow. Silence there ! what's all this noise about ? 

Sam. Whar's de Court ? I want to see de Judge. 

Siplin. {Approaching him.) My colored friend can I assist you ? 

Sam. Am you a Counsellor-at-Law ? 

Splin. Yes, retain me I How much money have you got ? 

Sam. I ain't got no money — but I've got a policy ticket. It* 
bound to draw a prize. 

Splin. Got any pawn tickets ? 

Sam. Ob course. {Giving him a handful.) 

Bow. Well, what's the charge ? 

9-9-9. (r. h. c.) Drunk and disorderly. 

Bow. Well, my man, what have you to say ? 

Sam. Dis here gemman represents me. 

Splin. We admit, if the Court please, that we were slightly in- 
toxicated, but we claim the privilege, as the equal of the white 
man. 

Bow. {To Clerk.) Very good ! Commit him for ten days. 

Splin. But this is an outrage, your honor. 

BoiD. {To Officer.) Take him oflT! {Motioning to Sam.) (SPLm- 
TBR sits doion discomfited, Sam very wroth.) 

Sam. What ? 

Bo20. Take him away. 

S^tm. Look here, judge, hab you read the Civil Right Bi 1 ? You 
can't send dis nigger to prison while dat bill am de law of de land. 

Bow. That'll do — remove him. 

Sam. I ain't no gipsy, I'm one of de Bureau niggers, I am 1 
Where am do law ? Don't touch me, white man ! Dis am corrup 
tJon — dis am 'ficial delinquency. 

9-9-9. {Collars him and carries him off.) 

Sam. Mr. Stevens ! Thaddels ! {Exit R. h. 1 E. 

Boio. Any more prisoners ? {Noise l. 1, e.) What noise is that? 

{Officer goes out. Byke enters, followed by the officer who escorts 
Laura.) 

Byke. Where is the judge? O, where is the good, kind judge? 



rXDE-R THE GASLIGHT. 25 

Bo2i:^. Well, my dear sir, ^liat is tlie matter? 

Byke. O, sir, forgive iiiy tears. I'm a broken-lieartcd man ! 

Bow, Be cahn, mj dear sir. Officer, bring this gentleman a 
chair. [Oljiccr hands ehnir ii. c. 

Byke. Ah, sir, you are very good to a poor distressed father, 
whose existence has been made a desert on account of his child. 

Bow. Repress your emotion, and tell me what you want. 

Byke I want ray child. 

Bow. Where is she ? 

Byl'<'; She is here, sir — hero— my darling, my beautiful child, 
* ud so unfilial — ^so unnatural. 

Bow. How is this, young lady ? 

Laura. {Standing inside railing l. n.) It is alia lie. He is not 
my father. 

Byke, Not your father ? Oh, dear, oh, dear, you will break my 
heart. 

Bow, This needs some explanation. If not his child, who are 3^011 ? 

Laura, I am — I dare not say it. I know not who I am, but I 
feel that he cannot be my father. 

Byke. O, dear— 0— 

Bow, {Sharply) Silence! (T6» Lauha, f:ternly,) You say you 
don't know who you are. Do you know this man ? 

Laui'a. Yes. 

Boic, Where, and with whom do you live ? 

Laura, I have lived alone for four months. 

Bow, And with whom did you live before that? 

Ijaura. 0, forgive me, if I seem disobedient — but I cannot 
tell. 

Bow, Then I must look to this gentleman for information. 

Byke, And I will gladly give it. Yes, sir, I will gladly tell. She 
was taken from me years ago, when she v.^as but a little child, by 
rich people who wanted to adopt her. I refused — they paid me — I 
was poor — I was starving— I forebore to claim her — she vras happy, 
but they turned her forth four months ago into the street, I could 
not see her suffer — my child — the prop of my declining days. I 
begged her to come — she refused. My enemies had poisoned my 
daughter's mind against me, her father. I am still poor, I taught 
school, but I have saved a little money, only for her. 

Boio. How old is she ? 

Byke. Nineteen. 

Bow. {To Laura.) Your father is your legal guardian during 
your minority, and is entitled to your custody. Why are you so un- 
dutiful ? Try to correct this. 

Byke. Oh, bless you, dear, good judge for those words. 

Jjaura. 0, have I no friends, must I go with him ? 

Bow. Certainly. 

jMura. Anything then. Exposure! Disgrace, rather than that \ 

\Jvdgps consult. Enter Snorkey l. goes opposite to Laura and 
signals her. 

Byke. (Aside.) Snorkey ! the devil ! 

Snorkey. {Crossing to Laura l. c.) Can I help you miss? Only 
toll me what to do, and if it takes my other arm off, I'll save you. 

Jjaura. Yes, yes, you can helpnie! {To Judge.) W'ill you let 
me send a message ? 

Bew, You may do that. 
2 



i'6 UNDER TUE GASLIGHT. 

LcvT.ra. Run to that house — uot my house — but the ore in vjhich 
you saw me first. Do you remember it ? 

Snorkey. Don't I, and the wine and cakes. 

Laura. Ask for Miss Pearl. Tell her where I am. Tell lierto 
come instantly. (Snokkey going.) Stay — tell her to bring the 
ebony box in mother's cabinet. Can you recollect ? 

Snorkey. Can I whp.t ? Gaze at this giant intellect and don't 
ask me ! The ebony box — all right — I'm off. 

{Exit L. 

BoiD. It would have been as well, yomig lady, to have answered 
frankly at first. 

Byke. 0, sir ! Don't be harsh with her ! Don't be harsli witij 
my poor child ! 

Boio. Your father has a most Christian disposition. 

Laura. Sir, I have told you, and I now solemnly repeat it, that 
this man is no relation of mine. I desire to remain unknown, for I 
am most unfortunate ; but the injustice you are about to commit 
forces me to reveal myself, though in doing so I shall increase a sor- 
row ah-eady hard to bear. (Splinter talks idth Laura aside.) 

Bow. \Ve sit here to do right, according to the facts before us. 
And let me tell you, young lady, that your obstinate silence haa 
more than con\inced us that your father's statement is correct. 
Further, unless the witnesses you have sent for can directly contra- 
dict him, we shall not alter our decision. 

Laura. Let it be so. He says he gave me into the care of cer- 
tain v^^ealthy people when I was a little child. 

Byke. I am willing to swear to it. 

Laura. (Splinter watcliing effect of question) Tlien he will be 
able to describe the clothes in which I was dressed at the time. 
They were safely kept. I have sent for them. 

Byke. Let them be produced — and I will recognize every little 
precious garment. (Aside.) This is getting ferociously hot for me ! 
Ha I Re-enter Snoiu^ey with Ray hastily l. 1 e. 

Snorkey. {Excitedly) Here's a Vvitness ! Here's evidence ! 

9-9-9 admonishes him. 

Laura. (Ray takcshcr hand through the rail) Ray ? 

Bow. Who is this? 

Ray. I am a friend, sir, of this lady. 

Byke. He is a dreadful character — a villain wlio wants to lead 
my child astray ! Don't — please don't let him contaminate her I 

Bow. Silence! {I'o Ray.) Can you disprove that this young 
lady is his daughter. 

Ray. His daughter ? {Looks at Laura.) 

Ljaura. He knows nothing. 

Bo2i\ Let him ansv/er. Come — have you any knowledge of tliio 
matter ? 

Ray. I had been told, sir, that (Laura looks at him) So 

— I know nothing. 

Lav7'a Have you brought the ebony box ? It contained the 
clothes which I v/ore when 

Ray. I understand ; btit in my haste, and not knowing your 
peril I brought nothing. But can ^ ou not remember them your^ 
eelf? 

Laura. Perfectly. 

li-ij/. Write, th«-*n' {Handing her a memorandum look.) T'J 



UXDKK THE GASLIGHT. 27 

Bow.) Sir, tliis lady will hand you a description of those articlca 
■ which she wore when she was found, thirteen years ago. Then let 
this scoundrel he questioned — and if he fail to answer, I will ac- 
cuse him of an attempted abduction. 

How. That's the way. 

Byke. {Aside.) It will not be a great effort for me to remember. 

Bo-w. (Taking the hook from, Ray.) Now, sir, I will listen to 
you. 

(Ray and Lauka are eager and expectant.) 

Byke. {Deliberately.) A soiled gingham frock, patched and 
torn. (LaL'Ka gives a shudder and turns aside.) 

Bow. What kind of shoes and stockings ? 

Byke. Her feet were bare. 

Boio. And the color of her hood ? 

Byke. Her dear little head was uncovered. 

Bow. {Handing hook hack.) He has answered correctly. 

Laura. It is useless to struggle more ! Heaven alone can help 
me! 

Bay. You can see, sir, that this lady cannot be his daughtei 
Look at her and at him ! 

Bow. I only see that he has pretty well proven his case. She 
must go with him, and let her learn to love him as a daughter 
should. 

Bay. She shall not ! I will follow him wherever he goes. 

Byke. {Taking Laura's hand.) I appeal to the Court. 

Boic. Oflicer, take charge of that person, until this gentleman is 
gone. 

Byke. {Coming foi'ward with Laura w7w is dumh and despairing.) 
My child, try and remember the words of the good judge. " You 
must learn to love me as a daughter shoold." {Leading her towards 
R. H.) 

Snorkey. {To Ray.) Stay here, sir, I'll track him. No one sua 
pects me 1 

{^Music, TaUeau, — Scene closes in. 

Laura r. h. Byke r. c. Snorkey c. Ray l. h. 

SCENE II. — S^TERTOR OP THE ToMBs, iclth lalJads on sfring9 
upon the railinns. Enter Judas folloiced hy Peach- 
blossom L. n. i E. 

Peach. Only tell me where he has taken her, and 111 go witb 
you — indeed I \x\\\. 

Judas. We don't want you, we wouldn't be bothered with you 
Bile's our game. 

Bearl. What are you going to do with her ? 

Jiidaii. Do ! v.'hy we'll coin her. Turn her into dollars. We've 
bad it on foot for a long time. 

Peach. What ! Is she the ricli young lady I heard you and BYOa 
Bi)'*ak of so often before I got away from you ? 

Judas. {Savagdii.) Heard me speak of ! What did you hear? 

Peach. {D,iuriiig off.) O, I know ! I knov/ more than you sup- 
pose.. When you used to lock me up in the back cellar for rimuin^ 
uway, you forgot tha't doors had key -holes. 

Jndui. {A&ide.) This girl must Le silenced. 



28 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Peach, "WliaT are you muttering about — don't you know Low 
Bike used to throw you down and trample on you for muttering ? 

Judas. I'll have you yet, my beauty. 

Peach. I tliink you are a great fool, Judas. 

Judas. Likely. Likely. 

Peach. Why don't you give up Miss Nina to that handsome 
young gentleman ? He'd pay you well for the secret. He'd give 
his whole fortune for her, I know, I saw it in his face. And he'd 
treat you better than Byke does. 

Judas. Not yet my chicken ; besides, what does he care for her 
now ? Isn't he going to marry the other girl — she's the one will 
pay when the time comes— but we intend to hold the goods 'till the 
price is high. 

Peach. 'J'hen, if you won't, I'll tell all as I knows. I'll tell him 
all I used to overhear about babies and cradles, and he'll understand 
it perhaps, if I don't. 

Judas. {Aside.) Hang her — she'll make mischief. {Aloud.) Well, 
come along with me, my beauty, and I'll talk it over with you. 

Peach. 'Don't touch me, I won't trust you with your hands on me. 
(Judas snakes a dart at her.) I knew that was your game. But I'll 
be even with you yet. {Dancing off tantalizingly lefore Judas. Both 
exit R. H.) 

{Enter Snorkey r. 1 e.) 

Snorkey. {Despondent.) I'm no more use than a gun without a 
trigger. I tried to toUow Byke, but he smoked me in a minute. 
Then I tried to make up with him, but he swore that I went against 
him in Court, and so he wouldn't have me at no price. Then I ran 
after the carriage that he got into with the lady, till a damn'd old 
woman caught me for upsetting her apple stand and bursting up her 
' business. What am I to do now ? I'm afraid to go back to the 
Cap'n, he won't have me at any price either, I suppose. {Gadng at 
ballads, hand, in Ids pockets — going from one to the other. Enter Ber- 
mudas L. 1 E. icith ballads in his hands and preparing to take others off 
the line as if to shut up shop. 

Ber. {After gazing at Snorkey.) What are you a doing of— sa-a-y ? 
{Snorkey takes no notice.) This here's one of the fellows as steals the 
bread of the poor man. Reading all the songs for nothin, and got 
bags of gold at home. Sa-a-y ! 

Snorkey. Well, youngster, what are you groaning about ? Have 
you got the cholera ? 

Ber. Ah ! What arc you doing ? Taking the bloom off my songs ? 
You're read them 'ere ballads till they're in rags. 

Snorkey. I was looking for the " Prairie Bird." 

Ber. Perary Bird ! eh ? There aint no perary bird. There's a 
"Perary Flower." 

Snorkey. Now don't go into convulsions. I'll find it. {Turns to 
sovgs.) 

Ber. Sa-ay — you needn't look no further for that bird ! I've 
found him, and no mistake. He's a big Shanghae with a red comb 
and no feathurs. 

Snorkey. He's dropped on me. 

Ber. Ain't you a mean cuss, sa-ay ? Why don't you come down 
with your two cents, and support trade ? 

Snorkey. But I ain't goi tAvo cents. What s a fellow to do \f he 
hESn't Ci'ot a icd/' 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 29 

Bcf. {Toning doicn.) Haint j^ou? Where's jour meseagee ? 

Snorkey. Havn't had one go to-day. 

Ber. Where do you hang out ? 

Snorkey. Nowheres. 

Bcr. My eye — no roost ? 

Sfiorkei/. No. 

Ber. i tell you what, come along with us — we've got a bully 
place — no rent — no taxes — no nothin. 

Suorkey. Where is it ? 

Ber. Down under the pier ! — I discovered it. I was in swimmin' 
and seed a hole and I went in. Lots of room, just the place for a 
quiet roost. We has jolly times every night I tell you on the 
dock ; and when it is time to turn in we goes below, and has it as 
snug as a hotel ; come down with us. 

Snorkey, I will ! These young rascals will help me track that 
scoundrel yet. 

Ber. NoAv, help me to take in my show windows ; it's time to 
shut up shop. 

{Enter Ray Trafford, l.) 

Bay. If what that crazy girl has told me can be true, Laihra 
may yet be restored to her friends if not to me, for I have dispelled 
that dream for ever. But that villain must be traced immediately, 
or he will convey his victim far beyond our reach or rescue. 

(Snorkey helping to take dovon songs, sees Trafford, wlio has crossed 
to R. H.) 

Snorkey. Hollo! Cap'n ! 

Bay. The man of all I wanted. You tracked him ? 

Snorkey. They was too much for me, sir — two horses was — but 1 
saw them turn into Greenwich street, near Jay. 

Ray. This may give us a clue. I have learned from a girl who 
knows this fellow, that he has some hiding-place over the river, and 
owns a boat which is always fastened hear the pier where the Bos- 
ton Steamers are. 

Snorkey. Well, Cap'n, if anything's to be done, you'll find me at 
Pier — vv'iiat's the number of our pier, Shorty ? 

Ber. Pier 30 ! — Down stairs ! 

Snorkey. Pier 30. That's my new home, and if you want me. 
Bay the word. 

Bay. You will help me ? 

Snorkey. You bet, Cap'n. I was on Columbia's side for four jeare, 
and I'll fight for her daughters for the rest of my life, if you eay «o. 
If there's any fightin' count me in, Cap'n. 

Ray. Thank you, brave fellow. Here take this — no nonsense* - 
take it. Pier 30*is it ? 

Snorkey. Pier 30. {Exit Trafford, K. 1 E.) 

Ber. {Eyeing money.) How much, Peeary? 

Snorkey. One — two — three — four — four dollars. 

Ber. JFour dollars ! Sa-ay — Don't you want to buy a share in a 
paying business? I'm looking out for a partner with a cash capital, 
for the ballad business. Or I tell you what to do. Lay your money 
on me in a mill. I'm going to be a prize fighter, and got reported 
in the respectable dailies. "Rattling Slill, l!9th round, Bermudas 
the victor, having knocked his antagonist into nowberes." 

Brwrkey. Come along, you young imp. I couid floor you with 



so rXDER THE GASr.lGIlX 

mv own arm, and then the report would be : "25th round ~Si^Ofi» 
KF.Y came up first, while his antagonist showed great signs of dis- 
tress." 

Ber. Say, Perary, what are you going to do with all that 
moiioy ? 

ISnorkey. I won't bet it on you, sure. 

Ber. I'll tell you what to do, let's go and board at the Metropo- 
litan Hotel for an hour. 

Snorkey. What will we do for toothpicks ? 

Ber. Oh, go along. You can't get anything to eat for four 
dollars. 

{Exit Snorkey, Ber. squaring off l. 1. e. 



SCEKE III.— Foot of Pier 30, North River. ~Sea doth doion and 
^DorJiing — A pier projecting info the river. A large cav- 
ity in front. Bow of a vessel at 'back^ and other steamers^ 
vessels and piers i?i perspective on either side. The flat 
gives view of Jersey City and the river shii^ping hy star- 
light. Micsic of distant serenade heard. 

Bykh enters sculling a hoat, R. 2d e. and fastens his hoat to the pier 
L. H. Old Judas is on the pier, smoking pijje, looking down. 

Judaa. Have you fixed everything across tlie river ? 

Bi/ke. Yes, I have a horse and wagon waiting near the shore to 
carry her to tlie farm. Has any one been around here. 

Judas. Not a soul. I've been waiting here for an hour. What 
made you so long ? 

Byke. I pulled down the river for a spell to throw any spies off 
the track. It was necessary after what you told me of that girl's 
threat to blab about the Boston pier. 

Judas. Pshaw ! she'd never dare. 

Byke. Never mind, it's best to be certain. Is the prize safe ? 

Judas. Yes, she was worn out, and slept when I came away. 
How her blood tells — she wouldn't shed a tear. 

Byke. Bah ! if she'd been more of a woman and set up a scream- 
ing, we shouldn't have been able to get her at all. Success to all 
girls of spirit, say I. 

Judas. Don't you think it might be worth while to treat with 
this young spark, Trafford, and hear what he has to offer ? 

Byke. Satan take him! no. That'll spoil your game about the 
other girl, Peari.. He was making up to her all right, and if he 
gets this one back he'll upset the whole game by marrying her. I 
tell you he's got the old feeling for her, spite of her running away. 
Nov/ you can judge for yourself, and do as you please, 

Judas. Then I do as you do-^get her out of the city. When 
Pearl is married to him we can treat for Laura's ransom, by 
threatening them with the real recret. 

Jii/ke. Then that's settled. {Tuking ovtfaftk.) Here's the preC' 
lous infant's health. Do you think she'll go easy, or shall we drug 
her? 

Jv.clm. Just tell her it's to meet her beau and get her ransom, or 
give her a reason and she'll be as mild as a lamb. 

Bijkt. Ha 1 let me get hold of her, and I'll answer she goes 



UJfDER TiJE GASLIGHT. 81 

across, rensou or no reason. (Bskmudas calls outsidt L. d.) Tbere'a 
a lioiso. 

Judas. It's only tlie market boys coming down for a swim, 

Jji/ke. Softly then, come aloiisr. IMuslc txenut l. 

[/V?ii'f/- Ber., Peanuts, and a couple otdn r hoi/f!, L. 

£cr. Say, Peanuts, go clown and see if o.ay of the fellows la 
come yet. (Peanuts scrambUs down to hole in froitt on side of dock ; 
CO lilts out again.) 

Fcanuts. There's nobody there. 

i:)norkeiu {witlioul.) Hollo! 

Bev. Hollo ! That's our new chum. Hollo I follow your front teeth, 
End you'll get here at'ore you knows it. 

\_lintcr Snorkey with more bovf, L. 

Snorkey. What a very airy location. 

Ber. It's a very convenient hotel. Hot and cold saltwater baths 
at the very door of your bedrooms, and sometimes when the tida 
rises we has the bath brought to us in bed — doesn't v/e, Peanuts? 

J^eaniit.s. ^I'hat's so. 

Siiorkey. Come, what do you do befi:)re you go to bed ? 

Ber, "VYe has a swarry. Say, one of you fellows, go down and 
bring up the piany forty. (Peanuts goes into hole and gets banju.) 
What "11 I give you? 

Siiorkey. Something lively. {Music, and dance by hoys, eiisue, — 
given according to capacity and talent. At the end of it, a general shout 
of Jubilee ; ivhen — 

Sergeant of Patrol. {Outside.) Here, boys ! less noise. 

Ber. it's Acton and the police. Let's go to bed. (Ber. ayidboy^ 
get down into hole.) 

Sergeant. {Bantering jj. in 2'>atrol boat.) If you boys don't make les3 
noise, I'll have to clear you out. 

Ber. {(hi the pier.) It's an extra occasion, Mr. AcTON ; — we're 
having a distinguished military guest, and we're entertaining him. 
{Boat passes out, P..) Come along, Peraiiy, let's go to bed. (Snor- 
KEY is about to descend.) 

{Enter Ray TraffoRD, L. on pier.) 

Bay. Is that you, Snorkey V 

Snorkey. {Quickly whispering.) Here, sir. Anything turned up ? 

Bay. Byke was overheard to say he intended crossing the river 
to-night ; he will doubtless use that boat which he keeps by thtj 
Boston Pier. The river patrol are on the watch for him. But I 
will meet him before he can embark. 

Snorkey. Which Boston Pier is it, Cap'n ? there are three on this 
river. 

Bay. Three ! 

Snorkeij. les ; one of them is two slips below. I tell you v/hat, 
Cap'n : You get the othcers, go by the shore way, search all tho 
slips ; I'll find a boat about here, and will drop down the river, and 
keep an eye around generally. 

Voice,. { Without, l. h.) This way, sir. 

Bag. That's the patrol calling me. Your idea is a ifTood one. 
Keep a sharp eye dowu the stream. [Exit L. 

Snorkey. \^AloJie.) Now for my lay. 

Ber. {Popping his head up.) Say, can't I do nothin ? I'm the 
Fifth- Ward Chicken, and if there's any muss, let me have a sliy. 

Snorkey. No; get iu and keep ouiet. (Bkb.. disappears.) I won- 



32 FNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

der wliere 1 Cn n find a boat. There ougb-L to be p'.entj tk-d u| 
about liere. My eye ! (1) .scorer ing Btke's ) Fleres one for the 
wishiu'; scuils too. I'm in luck. Say, BEiuiUDi^ whose boat is 
this ? 
Jie}'. Yours, if you like. Tie it loose. 

{Jum2)3 down, enterahoat, pushes offtJicardsn. 
J Ber. (Inside.) Keep your toe out of my ear 1 

(Pause.) [Byke, Laura, and Judas, enter on pie'i frori I-. 

Laura. Is this the place 1 There is no one here ; you have de- 
ceived me. 

I>i/kfi. Well, we have but we won't do so any longer. 

Laura. What do you mean ? 

Byke. (Drandng jndol.) Do you see this? It is my dog Trusty. 
It has a very loud voice and a sharp bite ; and if you scream out, 
I'll try if it can't outscream you. JuDAS, unfasten the boat. 

Laura. What are you about to do ? You will not murder me ? 

Bi^ke. No ; v/e only mean to take you to the other shore, where 
your friends won't think of finding you. Quick, Judas. 

Judas. The boat's gone. 

Bqke. Damn you, what do yon mean ? Where is it ? Here ; 
hold her. (Judas dutches Laura.) Where the devil is that boat? 

Snorkel/. (Be- appearing in boat from R.) Here! 

Bijke. Snorkey! We're betrayed. Come. (Drags Laura to- 
wards L.) 

Snorkey. The police are there ! Turn, you coward ! Don't run 
from a one-armed man ! 

Byke. Judas, take her ! (Snorkey strikes at Imn with oar. Bykb 
takes oar from /ri in ai,d strikes him; he falls in boat. TJie boys hear 
thenoisc,and scramble np at hack. The patrol boat appears atB.., with 
lights.) 

Snorke.ii. Help ! BERMUDAS ! 

Bcr. Hi ! Mnety-ninth round ! Srst blood for Bermudas 1 
(Jumpts at Byke.) 

Ihfkc. (Flinging Ber. off.) Judas, toss her over ! 

Judas throws Laura over hack of pier. Ray enters l. Boys all get 
on pier and surround Byke., fighting Mm. Officers ent-cr .it la Ray 
leo.ps into water after Laura'.) 

CURTAI?;. 

Moonlight on dubinq Scehs. 



X 



ACT IV. 

No Ovrpet 
SCEl^ L — Long Branch. Ground floor of an elegant r&^-vjumce— 
open icindoiDs from floor to ceiling at hack — i/^ening 
vpon a halcony or promenade. Perspective of ilu short 
and sea in dintance. Doors R. and l. Suns: I 

As the curtain rises to lively music, from r. enter Peabi*. Mrs. 
Yan Dam, Sue Eaelie, and other ladies in summer cosiur,i< yT)K- 
MiLT and WiNDEL loith them. 

Pearl. And so the distinguislied foreigner is in love with ir t' ? I 
thought he looked excessively solemn at the hop last ni^ ht. Do 
you know, I can't imagine a more serious spectacle than a Frcwch- 
man or an Italian in love. One always imagines them to be sick. 
{To Mrs. V. D.) Do fasten my glove —there's a dear. 

Mrs. D. Where's Ray ? 

Pearl. 0, he's somewhere. I never saw such another. Isn't he 
cheerful ? He never smiles, and seldom talks. 

J/r.<f. V. D. But the foreigner does. What an ecstasr he was in 
over your singing ; sing us a verse, won't you, while t^<w re waiting 
*^or Ray ? 

All. It will be delightful— do. 

Pearl. Well 1 [^Si/ng introduced. 

{Air ; Wheji the War is Over, Mary.) 



Now the summer days are fading, 

Autumn sends its dreary blast 
Moaning through the silent forest 

Where the leaves are falling fast. , 
Soon dread winter will enfold us — 

Chilling in its arms of snow, 
Flowers ih> * the summer cherished, 

Birds tha sing, and streams that flow, 

II. 

Say, shall all things droop and wither, 
That are born this Summer day ? 

Shall the happy love it brought us — 
Like the flowers fadeaway ? 

No ; be still thou flutt'ring" bosom- 
Seasons change and years glide by, 

They may not harm what is immortal — 
Darling,— love shall never die ! 

Pearl. Now, I've sung that to Rat a dozen times, and he neve ' 
even said it was nice. He hasn't any soul for music ; O, dear, whs . 
a creature 1 

J/r.s. V. T). Yes, and what a victiir* you will be with a husbaiyl 
who has f GO.OOC per annum income. 

2* (33) 



84 VT«"DER THE GASLIGHT. 

Pearl. That's some comfort, isn't it ? 

Ray. {Knterslj.IL. hawing to others.) Goin g out, PeaRL ? 

Pearl. Yes, we're off to Shrewsbury, Quite a party's going- 
four carriages — and we mean to stay and ride home by nioonliglit, 

Ray. Couldn't you return a little earlier? 

Mrs. V.I). Earlier! Pshaw! What's in you, Traffoed. {The 
ladies and genfs. go icp.) 

Ray. (Pearl, c.) You knoAV that Laura will be cj[uitQ alone, 
and she is still suffering. 

Pearl. Well, she'll read and read, as she always did, and never 
miss me. 

Ray. But, at least, she ought to have some little attention. 

Pearl. Dear, dear, what an unreasonable fellow you are. Isn't 
ehe happy now — didn't you save her from drowning, and havn't I 
been as good to her as I can be — what more do you want ? 

Ray. I don't like to hear you talk so, Pearl, and remember 
what she and you were once. And you know that she was some- 
thing else once — something that you are now to me. And yet how 
cheerful, how gentle she is. She has lost everything and does not 
complain. 

Pearl. Well, what a sermon! There, I know you're hurt and 
I'm a fool. But I can't help it. People say she's good-looking, but 
ehe's got no heart ! I'd give anything for one, but they aint t: b© 
bought. 

Ray. Well, don't moan about it, I didn't mean to reprove yoti. 

Pearl. But you do reprove me. I'm sure I havn't been the cause 
of Laura's troubles. I didn't tell the big, ugly man to come and 
take her away, although I was once glad he did. 

Ray. Pearl ! 

Pearl. Because I thought I had gained you by it. (Ray titrns 
away.) But now I've got you, I don't seem to make you happy. 
But I might as well complain tliat yovi don't make me happy — but 
I don't complain, I am satisfied, and I want you to be satisfied. 
There, are you satisfied ? 

Mrs. V. I). ( Who with others has been promenading up and down the 
balcony.) Here are the carriages. 

Pearl. I'm coming. Can't you get me my shawl. Rat. (Ray 
gets it from chair.) 

Mrs. V. D. And here's your foreign admirer on horseback. 

(Sue Earlie, Demilt and Windel, exit) 

Pearl. {Up stage q) Bye, bye, Ray. {Exit.) 

Mrs. V. P. Are you not coming, Trafford ? 

Ray. I? No! 

Mrs V D. Do come on horseback, here's a horse ready for you. 

Peart. {Without.) Ray! Ray! 

Mr!^. V. D. Pearl's calling you. Be quick or Count Carom 
will be before you, and hand her in the carriage. 

Ray. {Taking his hat slowly.) O, by all means, let the Count have 
some amusement. 

Mrs. V. P. {Taking Tv ay's arm.) You're a perfect icicle. 

[ They exit. 

[N'oise ofwJups and laughter. Plaintive music as Laura enters. 
L. fjoea to c. and gazes out at t/icm.] 



U^DlLtl THE GASLIGHT. 35 

Lmira. Poor Peael. It is a sad thing to want for happiness 
Init it is a terrible thing to gee another groping about blindly for it 
when it is ahnost within the grasp. And yet she can be very 
happy with him. Her sunny temper, and her joyous face will 
brighten any home. (Sifs at fable c, o?i ichic/t are books,) How 
happy I feel to be alone with these friends, who are ever ready to 
talk to me — v.ith no longings for what I may not have — my exist- 
ence hidden from ail, save two in the wide %vorld, and making my 
joy out of the joy of that innocent child who will soon be his wife. . 

(Peachblosso^e apipearz at hack loolc'mg in cctutiously^ gro- 
tesquely attired. 

Peach. If you please. 

Laura. (Aloud.) Who is there? 

Peach. (Pimythiff in vnndov; f.) 0, it's Miss NlNA ! 0, I'm SO 
plad ; I've had such a hunt for you. Don't ask me nothing yet. I'm 
so happy. I've been looking for you so long, and I've had such 
hard luck. Lord what a tramp — miles on miles. 

Lanra. Did any one see you come here ? How did you find me ? 

Peach. I asked 'em at the hotel where Mr. Trafford was, and 
they said at Courtlands, and I asked 'em where Courtlands 
was, and they said down the shore, and I walked down lookin' at 
every place till I came here. 

Laura. Speak low, BLOSsoir. My existence is a secret, and no 
^ne must hear you. 

Peach. Well, Misf , I says to Snorkey — says I — 

Laura. Is he v.ith you V 

Peach. No, Miss, but we are great friends. He wants me to 
keep house for him some day. I said to him — " I want to find out 
where Miss Nina's gone," and so he went to Mr. Trafford's and 
found he was come to Long Branch, but never a word could we 
hear of you. 

Laura. And the others — those dreadful people? 

Peach. Byke and old Judas ? Clean gone ! They hasn't been 
seen since they was took up for throwing you into the water, and 
let off because no one came to Court agin 'em. Bermudas says he's 
seen 'em in Barnu'ivi's wax-work show, but Bermudas is such a 
liar. He brought me up here. 

Ljaura. Brought you up here. 

Peach. Yes, he sells papers at Stetson's ; he's got the exclusive 
trade here, and he has a little wagon and a horse, and goes down to 
the junction every night to catch the extras from the Express train 
what don't come here. He says he'll give me lots of nice rides if 
I'll stay here. 

Laura. But you must not stay here. Ton must go back to New 
York this evening. 

J 'each. Back ! No, I won't. 

Lanra. BLOSSOM ! 

Patch. I won't, I won't, I won't! I'll never let you away aga'n. 
I did it once and you was took away and dragged about and chucked 
overboard and almost drowned. I won't be any trouble, indeed I 
won't. I'll hire out at the hotel, and run over when my work is don<# 
Bt night, when nobody can see me, to look up at your window. Don't 
Ecnd me away. You't-c the only one as ever was good to me. 



86 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Laura. (J side.) It's too dang-erous. She certainly wotil 4 ivveol 
me sooner or later. I must send her back. 

Feacli. Besides, I've got something to tell you. Dreadful 1 dread- 
ful ! about old Judas and Byke— a secret. 

Laura. A secret ! what in the world are you saying ? 

Peach. Is it wicked to listen at doors when people talk ? 
, LMura. It is very wicked. 

Peach. Well, I suppose that's why I did it. I used to listen to 
Byke and Judas when they used to talk about a ricL lady whoa, 
they called Mrs. CouiiTLAND. 

Laura. Ah ! 

Peach. Judas used to be a nurse at Mrs. Couiitla7("^''s, and wag 
turned off for stealing. And v/asn't she and Byke gjiug to make 
money off her ! and Bye:e was to pretend to be somehj-'.utiful lady's 
father. Then, when they took you, Judas says to ir.e : " Did you 
ever hear of children being changed in their cradles "i" — and that you 
wasn't her child, but she was going to make money off the real one 
at the proper time. 

Laura. What do you tell me ? 

Peach. Oh ! I'm not crazy. I know a heap, don't I ? And J 
want you to think I'm somebody, and not send me away. 

Laura. ("Jo herself.) She must speak the truth. And yet if I 
were to repeat her strange words here, I should be suspected of forj>-- 
ing some tale to abuse the ear of society. No! better let it rest as 
it is. She must go — and I must go too. 

Peach. You ain't mad with me ? 

Laura. No, no ; but you must go away from here. Go hfxV to the 
hotel to your friend — anywhere, and wait for me ; I will c< £Lc to you. 

J'each. Is it a promise ? 

Laura, {Nervously.) Yes, go. 

Peach. Then I'll go ; for I know you always keep your word — 
you ain't angry, cause I came after you ? I did it because I loved 
you — because I wanted to see you put in the right place. Honor 
bright, you ain't sending me away now ? Well, I'll go ; good bye ! 

[Exit c. 

Laura. {Animated.) I must return to the city, no matter what 
dangers may lurk there. It is dangerous enough to to concealed 
here, with a hundred Argus-eyed women about me every day, but 
with this girl, detection would be certain. I must go — secretly if 
I can — openly if I must. 

Puiy. {Outside.) No, I shall not ride again. Put him up. {En- 
tering.) Lauka, I knew I should find you here. 

Laura. {Sitting and pretending com'posure.) I thought you had 
gone with Pearl ? 

Rail. I did go part of the way, but I left the party a mile dowD 
the road ? 

Laura. You and Pearl had no disagreement ? 

Ba;i. No — yes ; that is, we always have. Our s )cial barometers 
always stand at " cloudy " and " overcast." 

Laura. {Rising) And whose fault is that? 

Kail. {Pettishly.) Not mine. I know I do all I can — I say all I 
can — but she — {Crossing.) 

Ljauva. But she is to be your wife. Ray— my friend — courtship 
is the text from v/hich the whole solemn seni:ion of married life t^ikea 
it€ th'-^mc. Do not let >ours be discontented and unhaj)py. 



TTSDEE THE GASi^IGHT. 37 

. Fat/. To be my wife ; yes. In a moment of foolishness, dazs led 
hy hej airs, and teased by her coquettishness, I asked her to be my 
wife. 

Laura. And you repent already ? 

Ray {Taking her hand.) I lost you, and I was at tho mercy of 
any flirt that chose to give me an inviting look. It was your fault 

- -you know it w^as ! Why did you leav^e me ? 

Laura. (After conflict with her feelings.) Bay, the greatest hap- 
piness I have ever felt, has been the thought that all your aflfectiong 
were forever bestoAved upon a virtuous lady, your equal in family, 
fortune and accomplishments. What a revelation do you make to 
me now I What is it makes you continually war with your happi- 
ness ? 

Ray. I don't know what it is. I was wrong to accuse you. For- 
give me ! I have only my own cowardice to blame for my mifaery. 
But Pearl 

Laura. You must not accuse her. 

Ray. When you were gone, she seemed to have no thought — no 
wish — but for my happiness. She constantly invited me to her 
house, and when I tried to avoid her, met me at every turn. Was 
iphe altogether blameless ? 

Laura. Yes, it was her happiness she sought, and she had a right 
to seek it. 

Ray. Oh ! men are the veriest fools on earth ; a little attention, a 
little sympathy, and they are caught — caught by a thing without 
soul or brains, while some noble woman is forsaken and forgotten. 

Ljaura. (Ray throws Jdmselfinto a seat.) Ray, will you hear me? 

Ray. {Looking at her hopefully.) Yes, speak to me as you used 
to speak. Be to me as you used to be. 

- Laura. (Smiling sadly.) I cannot be that to you; but I can speak 
as the spirit of the Lal'RA who is dead to you forever. 

Ray. Be it as you will. 

Laura. (StamUng beside him.) Let the woman you look upon be 
wise or vain, beautiful or homely, richer poor, she has but one thing 
she can really give or refuse — her heart ! Her beauty, her wit, her 
accomplishments, she may sell to you — but her love is the treasure 
without money and without price. 

Ray. How well I have learned that. 

Laura. She only asks in return, that when you look upon her, 
your eyes shall speak a mute devotion ; that when you address her, 
your voice shall be gentle, loving and kind. That you shall not des- 
pise her because she cannot understand, all at once, your vigorous 
thoughts and ambitious designs : for when misfortune and evil 
have defeated your greatest purposes — her love remains to console 
you. You look to the trees for strength and grandeur — do not des 
pise the flowers, because their fragrance is all they have to give. 
Remember, — love is all a w^oman has to gi re ; but it is the only 
earthly thing which God permits us to carry beyond the grave. 

Ray. (Rising.) You are right. You are always right. I asked 
Peael to be my wife, knowing wiiat she was, and I will be just ta 
her. I will do my duty though it break my heart. 

Laura. Spoken like a hero. 

Rm/. But it is to you I owe the new light that guides me ; and 
I will tell her — 

Laura. Tell her nothing — never siM?ak of me. And when you 



88 UXDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Bee Ker, say to her it is she> and she alone, whom you consult and 
to whom you listen, 

Ray. And you — 

Laura. You will see me no more. 

Hay. You wiu leave mo ? 

Lanra. Something of me will always be with you — my parting 
words — my praj'crs for your happiness. {Distant mn.sic heard.) 

May. {Falling on Ms knees.) O, Lal'EA, you leave me to despair. 

Laura, (c.) No ; to the happiness which follows duty well per- 
formed. Such happiness as I feel in doing mine. 

Picture. 

Scene closes in. During last of this scene the sun has set, and 
night come on. Stage darl\ 

SCENE II. — Woods near Shrewsbury Station. 
{Enter Byke shalMly dressed., l. 1 e.) 

Byke. It's getting darker and darker, and I'm like to lose my 
way. Where the devil is Judas ? It must be nine o'clock, and she 
was to be at the bend with the wagon half an hour ago. {Rumble 
of wheels heard.) Humph — at last. 

Judas. {Ente'^ing l.) Is that you Byke ? 

Byke. Who did you suppose it was ? I've been tramping about 
the wet grass for an hour. 

Judas. It was a hard job to get the horse and wagon. 

Byke. Give me a match, {Lights pipe and leans against a tree.) 
Did you get the bearings of the crib ? 

Judas. Yes, it is on the shore, well away from the other cotinges 
and hotels. 

Byke. That's good. Nothing like peace and quietness. Who's 
in the house ? 

Judas. Only the two girls and the servants. 

Byke. How many of them t 

Judas. Four. 

Byke. It'll be mere child's play to go through that house 
Have you spied about the swag ? 

Judas. They Jiave all their diamonds and jewels there ; Pearl 
wears them constantly ; they're the talk of the whole place. 

Byke. We'll live in luxury oflf that girl all our lives. She'll settle 
a handsome thing on us, won't she ? when she knows what we 
know, and pays us to keep dark ; — if t'other one don't spoil the 
game. 

Judas. Curse her ! I could cut her throat. 

i?3 ke. 0, I'll lake care of that ! 

Judas. You always do things for the best, dear old Byke 1 

Byke. Of conrfse I do. What time is it ? 

Jvdas. Not ten yet. 

Byke. An hour to wait. 

Judas. But, Byke, you won't peach on me before my little pet 
is married, will you ? 

Byke. What'p the fool about now ? 

Judas. I can't help trembling ; nothing is safe while Laura v 
there. 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. * 39 

Byke. I've providtd for that. I've had the same idoa as you • — 
while she's in the wa}', and Trafford unmarried, our plans are all 
binoke, and we might as well be sitting on the hob with a keg of 
powder in the coals. 

Judas. That we might. But what have you thought to do ? 

Byke. Why, I've thought what an unfortunate creature Laura 
Is, — robbed of her mother, her home, and her lover ; nothing to 
live for ; it would be a mercy to put her out of the way. 

Judas. That's it ; but how — how — how — 

Byke. It's plain she wasn't born to be drowned, or the materialb 
are very handy down here. What made you talk about cutting 
her throat ? It was very wrong ! When 'a thing gets into my 
head, it sticks there. 

Judas. You oughtn't to mind me. 

Byke. Make your mind easy on that score. 

Judas. {Alarmed.) Byke, I heard some one in the bushes just 
there. {Points off R.) 

Byke. (Nervously and quickly.) Who? WTiere? (Going n.) 

Judas. Where the hedge is broken. I could swear I saw the 
ehadow of a man. 

Byke. Stop here. I'll see. [Off-R. 

Judas. (Solus.) I begin to shiver. But it must be done or wo 
starve. Why should I tremble ? it's the safest job we ever planned. 
If they discover us, our secret will save us ; — we know too much 
to be sent to jail. 

(Re-enter Byke, sloicly.) 

Byke. Ther are traces, but I can see no one. (Looking off R.) 

Judas. Suppose we should have been overheard! 

Byke. (Glaring at her.) Overheard? Bah! no one could 
understand. 

Judas. Come, let us go to the wagon and be off. 

Byke. (Always looking off r.) Go you, I will follow. Bring it 
round by the station, and wait for me in the shadows of the trees. 
I will follow. (JcDAS goes off^ l. Byke, after a moment,— sfill look- 
ing R., — buttons 'up his coat and hides behind wood, r. h.) Heigho I 
I must be off. 

(Enter Snorket, sloicly, R.) 

Snorkey. Tracked 'em again ! W^e're the latest fashionable arri- 
vals at Long-Branch. " Mr. Byke and Lady, and Brigadier-General 
Snorkey, of New- York ;" — there's and item for the papers ! With a 
horse and wagon, they'll be at the seaside in two hours ; but in the 
train I think I'll beat 'em. Then to find Cap'n Trafford, and give 
him the wink, and be ready to receive the distinguished visitors 
with all the honors. Robbery ; Burglary ; Murder ;— that's Byke's 
catechism :— " What's to be done when you're hard up ? Steal ! 
What's to be done if you're caught at it ? Kill !" It's short and 
easy, and he lives up to it like a good many Christians don't live up 
to tlieir laws. (Ijookingoffj..) They're out of sight. Phew ! it's 
midsummer, but I'm chilled to the bone ; something like a piece of 
ice has been stuck between my shoulders all day, and something like 
a black miat is always before me. (Byke is behind tree.) Jnst like 
old Nettly told me he felt, the night before Fredericksburg ;— and 
next day he was past all feeling,— hit with a shell, and knoct ed into 
BO many pieces, I didn't know which to call my old friend. Well, 



40 UXDER THE GABLIGHT. 

{ulapping liia chest,) woVe all got to go ; and if I can save them, V\\ 
have some little cajntal to start the next world on. The next world i 
perhaps I shan't be the maimed beggar there that 1 an^ in this. 
{J'akes oittjyistol, examines lap ; goes off' 1,., BykE gliding after him.) 

SCENE III. — Railroad Slation at Shreicshury Bend. Up R. V)e 
Station shed R. h. Platform around it, and door 
at side, icindoic in front. At l. L. E. clump of 
shrubs and tree. The Railroad track runs front 
L. 4 E. to R. 4 E. View of Shreioshury River in, 
perspective. Night. Moonlight. The switch, with 
a red lantern and Signal maji^s coat hanging on 
it L, c. The Signal lamp and post beside it. 

As the scene opens, several packages are lying about the Stage, 
among them a bundle of axes. The Signal man is wheeling in a 
small ba.rrel from l. lohistling at his work. Enter Laura ?>» 
walking dress, coming feebly from l. u. e. 

Laura. It is impossible for me to go further. A second time I've 
fled from home and friends, but now they will never find me. The 
trains must all have passed, and there are no conveyances till to- 
morrow. {Slie sits at ehimp L, U. E.) 

Signal. Beg pardon, ma'am, looking for anybody ? 

Laura. Thank you, no. Are you the man in charge of this sta. 
tion? 

Signal. Yes, ma'am. 

Laura. When is there another train for New York ? 

Signal. . New York ? Not till morning. We've only one more 
train to-night ; that's the down one ; it'll be here in about twenty 
rainutes — " Express Train." 

Laura. What place is that ? 

Signal. That? That's the signal station shed. It serves for 
Btore-room, depot, baggage-room, and everything. 

LMura. Can I stay there to-night ? 

Signal. There ? Well it's an odd place, and I should think you 
would hardly like it. W hy don't you go to the hotel ? 

Jjaura. 1 have my reasons — urgent ones. It is not because I want 
money. You shall have this {producing portmojuiaie) if you let me 
remain here. 

Signal. Well, I've locked up a good many things in there over 
night, but I never had a young lady for freight before. Besides, 
ma'm, I don't know anything about you. You know it's odd that 
you won't go to a decent hotel, and plenty of money in your pocket. 

Laura. You refuse me — well — I shall only have to sit here ail 
night. 

Signed. Here, in the open air ? Why, it wovild kill you. 

Laura. So much the better. 

Signal. Excuse me for questions, Miss, but you're a running 
away from some one, ain't you V 

L^-aura. Yes. 

Signal. Well, I'd like to help you. I'm a plain man you know, 
and rd like to help you, but there's one thing would go agin' me to 
a&fcast in. (Lacka interested.) I'm on to fifty years of age, and I've 






UNDEK THE GASLIGHT. 41 

many cliildien, some on 'em daugnters grown. There's a many 
ti^mptations for young gals, and sometimes the oki man has to j)ut 
on the brakes a bit, for some young men are wiclied enough to per- 
suade the gals to steal out of their father's house in the dead of 
night, and go to shame and misery. So tell me this — it ain't the 
old man, and the old man's home you've left, young lady ? 

Laura. No ; yon good, honest fellow — no — I have no faLhe]r. 

Signal. Then, by Jerusalem ! I'll do for you what I can. Any- 
thing but run away from them that have not their interest but 
yours at heart. Gome, you may stay there, but I'll have to lock 
you in. 

Laura. I desire that you should. 

Signal. It's for your safety as much as mine. I've got a patent 
lock on that door that would give a skeleton key the rheumatism to 
fool with it. You don't mind the baggage. I'll have to put it in 
with you, hoes, shovels, mowing machines, and what is this — axes. 
Yes, a bundle of axes. If the Superintendent finds me out, I'll ask 
him if he was afraid you'd run off with these. (Laughs.) So, if you 
please, I'll first tumble 'em in. {Puts goods in house, Laura sitting 
on platform r. n. looking at him When all in, he comes toicards her, 
taking vp cheese-box to put it in Station.) I say, Miss, I ain't curious 
— but, of course, it's a young man you're a going to ? 

Laura. So far from that, it's a young man I'm running away from. 

Signal. {Dropping box.) Running away from a young man ! Let 
me shake hands with you. {Shakes her hand.) Lord, it does my 
heart good ! At your age, too ! {Seriously) I wish you'd coma 
and live down in my neighborhood a while, among my gals. (Shak- 
ing his /lead.) You'd do a power of good. (Putting box in station.) 

Laura. I've met an excellent friend. And liere at least I can bo 
concealed until to-morrow — then for New York. My heart feels 
lighter already — it's a good omen. 

Signal. Now, Miss, bless your heart, here's your hotel ready. 

(Goes to switch and takes coat off, putting it on.) 

Laura. Thanks, my good friend ; but not a word to any one — till 
to-morrow ; not even — not even to your girls. 

Si anal. Not a word, I promise you. If 1 told my girls, it would be 
over the whole village before morning. (She goes in. He locks door. 
Laura appears at window facing audience.) * 

Laura. Lock me in safely. 

Signal. Ah! be sure I will. There 1 (Tries door) Safe as a 
jail. ' (Pulls out weitch, arid then looking at track icith lantern) Ten 
minutes and down she comes. It's all safe this way, my noisy beauty, 
and you may come as soon as yon like. Good night, Miss ! 

Laura. (At icindow) Good night. 

Signal. Running away from young man. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

(He goes to track, then looks doion r. — lights his pipe and is trudg- 
ing off R., when enter Si<orkey/w?w l. u. e. 

Snorkey. Ten minutes before the train comes. I'll wait here for 
it. {To Signal man wJto re-enters) Hollo, I say, the train won't 
Btop hero too long will it. 

Signal. Too long ? It won't stop here at all, 

Snorkey. I m. us t reach the shore to-night. There'll be murdei 
done, unless 1 can prevent it ! 

Siff?i il. Murder, or no murder, the train can't be stopped. 



4S F^TDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Snorken. It's *, lie. By waving the red signal for danger, the 
engineer must stop, I tell you ! 

Signal. Do you tliink I'm a fool ! What ! disobey orders and 
lose my place ; then what's to become of my family ? (Bxit R. D. E. 

Snorkcy. I won't be foil-^d. I will confiscate some farmer's horse 
about here, and get there before them somehow. (Bykb enters at 
lack icith loose coil of rope in his hand.) Then when Byke arrives in 
his donkey cart he'll I33 ready to sit for a picture of surprise. (Bykk 
enters l. u. e. suddenlv throwing the coil Oder Snorkey.) 

Bifke. V/illhe? 

Bnorkey. Byke ! 

Btike. Yes, Bykb. Where's that pistol of yours ? {Tightening 
rove round his arm.) 

Snorkey. In my breast pocket. 

Bi/ke. {Taking it.) Just what I wanted. 

Snorkey. You ain't a going to shoot me ? 

Byke. "No! 

Snorkey. Well, I'm obliged to you for that. 

Byke. {Leading him to ^ilatfonii.) Just sit down a minute, will 
you. 

Snorkey. What for ? (Laura appears Jwrror strtick at window.) 

Byke. You'll see. 

Snorkey. Well, I don't mind if I do take a seat. {Sits doicn. 
'Btk.k coils the rope round his legs.) Hollo! what's this? 

ByJce. You'll see. {Picks the helpless Snorkey iLp.) 

Snorkey. Byke, what are you going to do ! 

Byke. Put you to bed. {Lays him across the R. R. track) 

Snorkey. Byke, jovl don't mean to — My God, you are a villain I 

Byke. {Fastening him to rails.) I'm going to put you to bed. 
You won't toss much. In less than ten minutes you'll be sound 
asleep. There, how do you like it ? You'll get down to the Branch 
before me, will you ? You dog me and play the eavesdropper, eh I 
Now do it if you can. When you hear the thunder under your head 
fcnd see the lights dancing in your eyes, and feel the iron wheels a 
foot from your neck, remember Byke ! {E?^it L. H. E. 

Laura. O, Heavens ! he will be murdered before my eyes ! How 
can I aid him ? 

Snorkey. Who's that? 

Laura. It is I. Do you not know my voice ? 

Snorkey. That I do ; but I almost thought I was dead, and ifc 
was an angel's. Where are you ? 

Tjaura. In the station. 

Snorkel/. I can't see you, but I can hear you. Listen to me, Miss, 
hi I've got only a few minutes to live. 

Laura. {Shaking door.) God help me ? and I cannot aid you. 

Snorkey. Never mind me, Miss. I might as well die now, and 
here, as at any other time. I'm not afraid. I've seen death in al- 
most every shape, and none of them scare me ; but, for the sake of 
those you love, I would live. Do you hear me ? 

Laura. Yes ! yes I 

Snorkey. They are on the way to your cottage — Byke and Ju- 
das — to rob and murder 

I^aura. {Li agony.) 0, I must get out 1 {Shakes windoic bar^.) 
What shall I do? -"' ' ^ ^ 

Siwrkey. Can't jou buret the door? 



UXDER THE GASLIGTIT. 43 

Laura. It is locked fast. 

Snorhey. Is there nothing in there ? — no hammer ?- -no c/'o\\ bar t 

Laura. Nothing ! {Faint steam whistle heard ir„ the 'Ustance.) O, 
neavens ! The train ! {Paralysed for an instant.) The axe ! ! ! 

idnorhey. Cut the woodwork ! Don't mind the lock — cut round 
tt ! How my neck tingles ! (.4 Mow at door is heard.) Courage ! 
(Another.) Courage ! (The steam whistle heard, atiain— nearer^ 
and mr.ible of train on track. Another Mow.) That's a tru.e wo- 
man i Courage ! {Noise of loconiotive heard — loith whistle. A 
last Mow; the door swiiigs oven^ mutilated— -the loch hanging — 
and Laura af)pears, axe in hand.) 

SnorJcey. Here — quick ! {She runs and unfastens him. The 
locomotke lights glare on scene.) Victory! Saved! Hooray! 
(Laura lejfns exhausted against switch.) And these are the wo- 
men who aju't to have a vote ! 

{As Lau»a talces his head from the track, the train of cars rushei 
past with r.^(r and w>histle from L. to B. H. 



ACT V. 

SCEISTS I. — All elegant loudoir at Courtland's cottage, Long 
Branch; open icindow and hnlcony at bacJc ; mooiv- 
light exterior ; tree overhanging 'balcony. 

Bed is at u. e, l.; toilette tahle u. ; arm chair c. ; 
door L. 2 E. ; lighted lamp on toilette table ; dresses 
on chair by bed l. h. and by window on r. {Music.) 

Pearl is discovered {en negligee) brushing her hair out at table 
"before mirror. 

Pearl. I don't feel a bit sleepy. What a splendid drive we had 1 
I like that foreigner. What an elegant fellow he is ! Ray is noth- 
ing to him. I wonder if I'm in love with him. Pshaw ! What an 
idea ! I don't believe I could love anybody much. How sweetly he 
writes ! — {2)icks vp letter and sits on chair c.) " You were more luvely 
than ever to-night ; with one mere thing, you'd bean angel !" Now, 
that's perfectly splendid : " with one more thing, you'd be an angel 
— that one thing is love. They tell me Mr. Thafford is your pro- 
fessed admirer. I'm sure he could never be called your lover — for 
he seems incapable of any passion but Melancholy." It's quite true. 
Ray does not comprehend me. {Takes up another letter.) '■ Peakl, 
forgive me if I have been cross and cold. For the future, I will do 
my duty, as your affianced husband, better." Now, did ever anyone 
hear such talk as that from a lover? Lover! — 0, de?.r! I begin to 
feel that he can love, but not me. Well, I'd just as soon break — if 
he'd be the first to speak. How nice and fresh the an is \— {she turns 
down lamp.) It's much nicer here, than going to bed. {Settles her- 
self in tete-a-tete for a nap. Pause.) 



[Moonbeams fall on Btxe, ^cho appears dbou the balcony. He gets 
over the rail and enters. 

Byke. Safely down ! I've made no mistako — no, this is her room. 
What a figure I am for a lady's chamber. {Goes to tabic, picks up 
delicate lace handkerchief, and wipes his face.) Phew I Hot ! {Puts 
handkerchief in his pocket ) Now for my bearings. {Taking huge 
clasp-knife from his pocket.) There's the bed where she's sleeping like 
a precious infant, and lierc — {Sees Peael in chair and steals round 
at back, looking down at her.) It's so dark — I can't recognize the 
face. It's a wonder she don't feel me in the air and dream of me. 
If she does she'll wake sure— but it's easy to settle that. {Takes 
phial of chloroform from his pocket, saturates the handkerchief he picked, 
up, and applies it.) So ! — now my charmer — we'll have the ear-rings. 
[Takss them out.) What's here {Going to table.) Bracelets — dia^ 
monds! {Going to dresses, and feeUrig in the pockets.) Money! That's 
Liandy. (He puts all in a baa, and hands them over balcony.) Nov 



?^ 



rXDEll THE GAS! . ^. 43 

for the draAvers, there's ^vhere the treasare must bo. Locked? 
{Tries them icith b inch of keys ) Patent lock, of course ! It amu8ea 
me to see people baying patent locks, when there's one key will fit 
'em all. {Produces small cro Lobar, and just as he is about to force the 
drawer, a shout is heard, and^ noise of wagon.) What's ihat ? {Jumps, 
catching at bureau, ichich falls over) Damnation ! 
Pearl. (Starting up) Who's there ? What's that? 
Byke. Silence, or I'll kill you ! 
Pearl. Help! Help! 

Byke. {Bunning to bureau for knife) You will have it my pretty 
one. (Pearl runs to door l.) 

Pearl. Save me ! Save me ! (Byke pursues her, the door hursts 
open and Ray and Laura enter. Byke turns and runs to balcony, 
and confrords Snorkey and Bermudas, idIio have clambered Oder.) 
Laura. Jusi in time. 
Bay. {Seizing Byke.) Scoundrel! 

Snorkey. Hold him, Governor I Hold him. (Assists Ray to hind 
Byke i?i chair r. n.) 

Ber. Sixty-sixth and last round. The big 'un floored, and Ber- 
mudas as fresh as a daisy. 

Pearl. Dear, dear Lauka, you have saved me. 
Ji'yj/. Yes, Pearl ; from more than you can tell. 
Laura. No, no, her saviors are there. {Pointing to Ber. and 
Snor.) Had it not been for the one, I should never have learned 
your danger, and but for the other, we could never have reached 
you in time. 

Snorkey. Bermudas and his fourth editions did it. Business 
enterprise and Bermudas' pony express worked the oracle this time. 
Ber. The way we galloped ! Sa-ay, my pony must have thought 
the extras was full of In^ely intelligence 
Pearl. Darling Laura, you shall never leave us again. 
Bay. No! never. 

Snorkey. Beg pardon, Cap'n, what are we to do with this here 
game we've brought down ? 
Bay. The Magistrates v/ ill settle with him. 
Snorkey Come, old fellow ! 

Byke. One word, I beg. My conduct, I know, has been highly 
reprehensible. 1 have acted injudiciously, and have been the occa- 
sion of more or less inconvenience to every one here. But I wish 
to make amends, and therefore I tender you all in this public man- 
ner my sincere apologies. I trust this will be entirely satisfactory. 
Bay. Villain ! 

Byke. I have a word to say to ^rou, sir. 
Snorkey. Come, that's enougli. 

Byke. My good fellow, don't interruj^t gentlemen who are con- 
versing together. {2o Ray.) I address you, sir — you design to 
commit me to the- care of the officers of the law ? 
Bay. Most certainly. 

Byke. And you will do your best towards having me incarcera- 
ted in the correctional establislimei ts of this coimtry ? (Ray bous.) 
Snorkey. How very genteel ! 

Byke. Then I have to say if you will, I shall make a public ex- 
posure of certain matters connected with a certain younfj: lady. 

Laura. Do not think that will deter us from your punishment 
I can bear even more than 1 have— f<-« tlie s«ke (f justice. 



46 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

ByliC. Esciist. je, but I did not even remotely refer to you. 

Lait.ra. To whom, then ? 

Byke. {Pointing to Peae,l.) To her. 

Ray. Miss CoDRTLAND? 

Byke. 0, dear ! no, sir. The daughter of old Judas — the spuri- 
ous child placed in your cradle, Miss Laura Couiitlakd, when you 
were abducted from it jy your nurse. 

Pearl. What does he say ? 

Byke. That you're a beg.^rar's child — we have the proofs ! Do. 
liver me to prison, and I produce thcin. 

Bay. Wretch ! 

Pearl. Then it's you, dear Lauka, have been wronged — wliile 

Laura. You arc my sister still— whatever befalls ! 

Pearl. Oh, I'm so glad it's so I Ray won't want to mai ry me, 
now — at least, I hope so ; fori know he loves you — he always loved 
you — and you will be happy together. 

Ray. Pearl, what are you saying ? 

Pearl. Don't interrupt me ! I mean every word of it. Laura, 
I've been very foolish, I know. I ought to have tried to reunite 
you — but there is time. 

Bnji. Dear LAURA ! Is there, indeed, still time? {She gives her 
havd.) 

Byke. Allow me to suggest that a certain proposition I had the 
lionor to submit has not yet been answered. 

Bay. Release him. (Snorkey undoes his cords.) 

Byke. Thank you — not so rough ! Thank you. 

Bay. Now, go^ — but remember, if you ever return to these parts 
you shall be tried, not only for this burglary, but for the attempt 
to kill that poor fellow. 

Byke. Thank you. Good-bye. ( To Snorkey.) Good-bye, my 
dear friend ; overlook our little dispute, and write to me. {Asid^e.) 
They haven't caught Judas, and she shall make them pay hand- 
Bomely for her silence, yet. 

[Enter Peach, l. 1 e. 

Peach. O Mis^ ! 0, such an accident — old Judas 1 

Laura and Byke. V\'b\\ ? 

Peach. She was driving along the road away from here — just 
now, vdien her norse dashed close to the cliff and tumbled her 
down all of a heap. They've picked her up, and they tell me she 
is stone dead. 

Byke. {Aside.) Dead I And carried her secret with her ! All's 
u]). I'll have to emigrate. (Aloud.) My friends, pardon my 
emotion — this melancholy event has made me a widower. I solicit 
your sympathies in my bereavement. [Exit i'. 

Ber. Go to Hcboken and climb a tree ! I guess I'll follow him 
and see he don't pick up anytliing on his way out. 

[Exit Ber. l. e. 

Snorkey. Well tliere goes a pretty monument of grief. Ain't he a 
cool 'un ? If 1 ever sets up an ice cream saloon, 111 have him Hot 
head freezer. 

Peach. 0. Miss Laura, mayn't I live v.ith you now, and nover 
kiave no more. 

Laura. Yet^, ynn shall live with me as lon^ ns you please. 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 4? 

Snorkey. That won't be loner if I can help it (Peach Uus^.'S.) 
Beg pardon. I siippose we'd better be going! The ladies n-j/Jt, be 
tired Cap'u at this time of night, 

Ray. Yes, it is night ! It is night always for jne. {3fr/p^ to- 
icards door l.) 

Laura. {Placing one hand on Ms slioulder, taking Ms Ivt/iJ) Let 
there is a to-morrow. You see it cannot be dark forever. 

Pearl. Hope for to-morrow, Ray. 

Laura. We shall have cause to bless it, for it wu-y ^rnAg tac 
long sought sunlight of our lives. 

CURTAIIT. 



B. 6KOBKEY. LaUBA. RaY. PKAEL. PEACHBLOS.yOll. L. B 



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sionals. Measurement I6J2 in. by 1'2>^ in. 

Price Colored, each, 30 cents. Plain, each, 15 cent*. 

BACK SCENES. 
The letters denote what borders and sides will go with the scenes. 



1. Cottage, Interior (j b) 

2. «• Exterior ^af) 

3. Wood (a/) 

4. Prison (c I) 

5. Field (a k) 

6. Castle (A;) 

7. Street (g) 

8. Palace (dh) 

9. Drawing-room (J) 



10. Library {j) 

11. Street, Foreign (e) 

12. Roadside Inn with 

river and bridge (fc) 

13. Foreign Hotel ext.(a/) 
U. Ship Deck 

15. Seascape (Jc) 

16. Cave [c I) 

17. Mounuin Pass (& k) 



18. Attic (6^ ) 

19. Lodging House Eoom(J) 

20. Villa (a/) 

21. Court of Jufctice (h) 

22. Baronial Hall (h b) 

23. Proscenium, right 
23 a " ielt 

24. Curtain 

25. Drop Scene. 



a Foliage Borders. 
6 Rocks and Raft Borders 
c Stone Borders. 
d Fancy Borders. 



BORIJERS AND SIDES. 
Price Colored, each, 30 cents. Plain, each, 15 cents. 

e Foreign Exterior Sides. | j Interior Sides. 
/Tree Sides. k Field and Rock Sides. 

g Exterior Sides. I Stone Sides. 

A Pillar Sides. 



FRENCH'S AMATEUR OPERAS, 

FOR STAGE AND DRAWING-ROOM!. 

Comprising some of the best works of the great composers, and arranged bo 
that they can be performed in any drawing-room. Each book U complete in 
itself, containing the Libretto, Stage Directions, Music, Costumes, and Properties, 
elegantly finished, and the size of ordinary music, illuminated cover. 

This series is superior to any other published. The following are ready; 

PRICE 40 CENTS EACH. M T 

The Rose of Auvergne, or " Spoiling the Broth,"l act. Music by OflTenbach 2 1 

The Blind Beggars, by Oflfenbach, 1 act 2 1 

The Barber of Bath, Oflfenbach, 1 act 3 1 

My New Maid, composed by Charles Lecocq, 1 act 2 

A Fit of the Blues, composed by V. Robillard, 1 act 1 1 

Grass Widows, V. Gabriel, 1 act 1 2 

Loan of a Lover 4 2 

Trial by Jury, composed by Arthur Sullivan, 1 act, words by W. S. Gilbert. 
This is very amusing and very pretty. There are five males, as well as 
twelve jurymen (the chorus), and one female character and eight brides- 
maids, also the chorus. If these numbers be not convenient, any num- 
ber will do 17 9 

AKRANGED FOR PRIVATE REPRESENTATION. 

By j. V. PRICHARD. 
Containing 80 selected Tableaux, with instiuctions how to get them up, cast 
of characters, costumes required, and full description of each picture. Also 
information respecting the use of the Tableaux Lights, and other effects, and 
describing the music requij;ed for each representation. Price, 25 cents. 



THBATEICAL AND FANCY COSTUME WiaS, &c., 

A large assortment of above kept in Stock. No Wigs lent out on hire. Any Wig 
can be made to order. For prices and description, see 

CATAIiOGXTE, POST FREE ON APPLICATION. 

38 East 14rtli Street, XJnion ScLuare, N'e-w York. 



y> 



WB ACfllS IMTII^lS, 



PRIOE, 1 



nsr:Ki"W 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



015 821 623 1 



PUBLISHED IN FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. 



Lancers 

Lucille 

Raudall's Thumb 

Wicked World 

Two Orphans 

Colleen Bawn 

'Twixt Axe and Crown 



Lady Clancarty 

Never Too Late to Mend 

Lily of Fmuce 

Led Astra? 

Henry V., new version 

Unequal Match 

May, or Dolly's Delusion 



AUatoona 
Enoch Arden 
Weak Woman 
How She Loves Him 
Our Socio ty 
Mother in Law 
Snowed lu 



PUBLISHED IN FRENCH'S .MINOR DRAMA. 



Wonderful Woman 
Curious Case 
Forty Winks 



As Like as Two Peas 
Court Cards 
Happy Land 



Terrible Tinker 
My Uncle's Will 



PUBLISHED IN FRENCH'S LONOON EDITION. 



Twenty Minutes Under an 

Umbrella 
Mr. Joflan's Latch Key 
Watch and Wait 
Familv Pictures 
Fatal Glass 
Ashore and Afloat 
Jeannette and Jeannot 
Bridal Wreath 
Gold Fiend 
Tom Bowline 
Narcisse, the Vagrant 
The Vampire 
Headless Horseman 
Our Geordie 
For Honor's Sake 
Our Bitterest Foe 
By Royal Command 
Blow in the Dark 
Painless Dentistry 
Taking the Veil 
Rely on My Discretion 
Who Stoie the Clock 
Love and Honor 
On the Clyde 
Mary's Dream 
Fame 



Bitter lieckoning 

Eileen Oge 

Bathing 

An Old Score 

My Sister from India 

Maria Martin 

Among the Relics 

Nebob for an Hour 

An Old Man 

Village Nightingale 

Our Nelly 

Partners for Life 

Chopstickand Spikins 

Chiselling 

Birds in their Little Nests 

Pretty Predicamsnt 

Seven Sins 

Insured at^Lloyd's 

Hand and Glove 

Keep Your Eye on Her 

Jessamy's Courtship 

False Alarm 

Up in the World 

Parted 

One in Hand, &c. 

Little Sunshine 



WTio'll Lend me a Wife 

Extremes Meet 

Golden Plough 

Sweethearts 

Velvet and Rags 

Cut foe Partner 

Love's Alarms 

An Appeal to the Fe^ngs 

Tale of a Comet 

Under False Colors 

Heroes 

Philanthropy 

Little Vixens 

The Coming Wonuui 

Telephone 

Too Late to Save 

Just My Luck 

Grateful Father 

Happy Medium 

Sole Survivor 

Neck or Nothing 

Poppleton's Predicaments 

Auld Acquaintance 



White Pilgrim 
Dentist's Clerk 



ARTICLES NEELED BY AMATEURS, 

Svich as Tableaux Ligrbts, Magrne^'um Tableaux Tiights, Prepared Burnt 
Cork, Grease, Paints. Liightning- for Private Theatricals. ' 



Jarley*s Wax Works, Ethiopian Piays, Charades, Amateui's Guide, Gnide 

the Stage. 

S. FRENCH &; SON, 

S8 E* 14th Street, Union Square, 3r. F. 



